Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1891-08-21
MY PRETTY NEIGHBOR.

other back windows. The alley was
about as alleys go; tho same proper
ton o. rag pickers stopped over bar
rels in back gateways as in other
alleys.
My windows were hung with alb
breviatod something's that my landlady
called curtains. and spoke of pathetic
ally as having seen better days. But
Che two across the alley were quito
pretentious. One Of them, the ono
that caught the firsS rays OF the re-
luctant sun from over peaked roofs
and ob.rusive caves. had n box built
into it. where morning glories actually
dared grow. and twist about the string
she put for them. She was fair
faced woman-girl, who took possession
some two months after | had moved
into my quarters.
l suppose she was young in years.
] know | watched her with good deal
OF interest, curious TO learn what
manner of person it might be who had
the temerity to sing Home Sweet
Home in third-story back. Sing
it. too, with both of her windows wide
open. Haunting little trills and inn
promptu variations right into the open
windows on my side of the alley.
liked Missy. l like the calm ten
derness of the big dark eyes, the
breadth OF the young brow, the mod
est maidenliness and the wholesome
ness generally of her appearance. l
found Blackstone triile prosy even
rir,I 1..
closed. and when evening brought the
little lady-for lady she was, every
inch OF her-home from work, ii was
simply impossible to sit still and pom
der legal quirks and founder through
legal sloughs. There was so much
pleasanter study opposite done up in
neat dress and big eyes and goldy-
brown hair, and all that Up would
go her windows, both of them. out
would go the bird cage for breath
of air. and the little mistress would
unrGvel tangled vines and coax them
around the strings. She had been
watching the callow knobs develop in
90 long twisty buds and | had grown
about as deeply interested myself
watching her watch them.
One morning ! saw the first bloom
wide open, rs l, of course, included
the two windows in survey up and
down the alley. Then l fingered to
see what she would do when she saw
It. Hadn't long to wait, either. Pres
emily her blind was raised, and there
was that milk white morning glory
nodding bonnily to her.
20, you darling,n she cried and
held the pretty thing caressingly
agains. her face. Actually, the fool
ish child patted it and petted it. and
laughed softly TO it; and !, spy that
was, felt my eyes as moist us if gust of
rain had blown in them, and q queer
choke in my throat, and by some in
congruity OF associations thought ir-
relevantly of my modest bank account,
and az the same instant how winsome
she would look under that misty white
stuff bride wears. ! fancy / must
have forgotten that hitherto | had
played the role of unseen, for presently
she saw me- and with crimson checks
turned away into the room.
About this time | discovered that
the mirror in my room reflected OBJ.
iects across the alley in her room. |
instantly tilted the bold thing at an
acute angle that | might not trespass
beyond the vine-hung window. But
one morning, when the maid in dust
ing had readjusted it, | saw reflected
ia it the girl in her room, walking to
and fro with agitated steps, then sink
irc har lyn al ha hop de in,
very agony of prayer, the slim form
shaken with sobs. discharged, |
suppose, | muttered. savage that |
had thus been unintentional witness of
grief meant only for Him who sees
always. put that offending mirror
in the farthest corner OF the room.
pelted around rather stormily for
awhile then went down to the nearest
florists and bought the biggest bunch
OF roses could find. ordering them
sent TO that poor little girl crying her
heart out in that third story back room.
Not as a balm to her. oh, no; merely
as an apology TO myself for having
seen the sorrow she thought none could
see.
Her blinds were drawn tight when |
got back to my den and had to race
down again and tell them not to send
the flowers till next morning.
No light in her room that night.
Having 1t ali out by yourself in the
dark, you poor little soul" thought
i'm somber soiiloquy. That's the way
with women. They lake grief to
their slumbcrs with them, fret, and cry
and brood over It. and it doesn't do a
particle Of good A man. now, would
Just jam his hat over his eyes, take Il
cigar and have 1t out III tramp about
town.
Poor little woman There were
dark circles under her eyes next morn
ing. and tie five bright morning
glorics tapping against her window
won but the warpes, smiles. / saw her
sit languidly down and count every
penny In toe smell pocketbook.
Neager enough I knew, from the de-