The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1892-11-24

Mistah White and ''oI:- N:stah
Brown" He also knew how to turn
certain set ring around on his white
hand 50 that the set would +hcW to G.i-
vantage.
The voang girl next to hira had no.
| Iced that he only talked figures. She
| sometimes wondered when lie iaid down
| his red penholder and black one with
clock like regularity each day, when
| twelve was the figure at which tn:
| clock pointed. to go to lunch, if he did
| not eat these small crackers cut into
| ones, tv"os, threes and tours.
| Her active imagination saw his stcfsl-
ach and head both lined with nothing
| but fic-Ires.
/ rs the busy day wore on, into the
/ rush and noiae Of business there ci.me
/ the sDund Of music from the Auditor
iuIn, across the way. Some one was
! practicings Il vocal lesson. In an instant
one pen in the Office stopped travelling.
The pretty face Of the young girl next
to tn. ambitious fellow Oh the stool
va. tcrncd wistfully and dreamily
toy7af,! the window. She rested the
end Of the pcuholder against her lips as
/ She listened, absorbed, following the
/ voice ia it, yvanderings among the
I trills. She tatled there" Unconscious
4 " the girl spoke aloud
Il beg pawdon, did you speak to me,
t Miss tSEivey?"
/ '.No, oh. mol was just thinking
aloud replied the musical voice. Then
she Int again to the work before her.
.'ThinIlirg." Mr.. Groovelet-the ma
chiGc-l1@lzed at her in a puzzled, com
rniscr&ting sort of way, as he carefully
dipped his red penholder into the red
ink and returned to his figuring
/ At last the clocks long finger pointed
downward to six an! the short finger
hurried along and posed be- Zen the '
and NJ. The scene ella, Cd. Down
went the pens. The eli Il tho
typew-itcrs ceased. Mocl y and ma
chimes al stopped.
Quietly, Miss Quivey y. ed into the
ladies toilet room, wher' me group OF
stenoGraphers Were noisilg talking
'sslop'' wondering who would get the
next raise" and if his royal nibs"
would give them a ''vacashc."
Out and away from it all walked the
down t2lc street to the doorway marked
Entrance to the Elevated" Up the
stairs She ran, running a scale at the
same time in low, sweet undertonc,
eacl. step a tone to her music-loving
faney. She was soon in the train. On,
or, OF vvilizzed the elevated, down
allev5 and past the back windows Of
houses of all sorts and conditions. On,
on to where 1t was stiller and rents
were cheaper.
At last our pretty little music-box
left the elevated and, walking quickly
down q street, was soon climbing more
stairs in Il fiat building. Up, up she
went. not humming now, but going
softly down the hall and into q room at
the end.
Margaret Quivey was ScotchIrish-
American. Born Of q musical family on
both sides, small wonder that her soul
vibrated to all melody. Her mother
had sung always, ii seemed to Margaret,
with the ease Of & bird. The father had
jour2eyed by her side through these
years OF study abroad Costello the
tenor had advised and directed and
never lost sight OF her.
Then came dark days when the moth
or seemed to be slipping away before
Iarg&rct5 dream was realized.
When those days W ere past, there came
che cver-to-bc-forgotten time wher
through nervous strain and anxiety the
little music-box suddenly became mute
She sat at the piano, with her heao
bowed in her hands, realizing how
precious her gift was to her and how
slight was her hold upon it.
This cloud passed away and people
who heard Margaret sing in those day!
listened with tears in their eyes ut the
touching pathos OF the singers voice.
At last, after years of trial and strug
gle. years of careful training, the music
al star was to sing in Chicago, tn.
scene of carly struggles.
Thanksgiving eve was the night
The auditorium was a blaze of Ugh
and life.
Outside there was the long process
sion of carriages blocking Congress
street and Michigan avenue. Insid
there were the throngs of people, man.
beautiful women and beautiful toilets
~ brilliant audience,' some one re
marked.
Behind the scenes apart from the res
stood Il group Of three. The nervous
Eray-haired man was Costello, the ia
nous tenor. There was the pale-facet
lady in the invalid's chair whose won
dtrful love had sustained the singer
Beside her stood the beautiful womaI
who We about to try to sing her wa.
into the hearts of the people waiting.
; Margaret stood holding her mother
hand i'll hers thinking of many things