The Press., 1893-10-12

easy walkin pal shoes ess-a ever was-a wear"
 And so weeks lapped over weeks an. til months had passed and folded like wise one upon the other.
 Carlotta was stillsto her fond old lover dainty little saint within high niche, and when he said his Hail Marys at night, as he had tried to do ever since he had confessed himself in love, he kept seeing her picture sitting in the garret window in the moonlight and wonder ing how far his piety was at fault. Even irreligious men say prayers when they are honestly and purely in love. Pat was only unreligious.
 He still told himself, az he told her that she was free and must listen un- tramneled to any story of love that should please her. And yet when he laid by small sums of money he thought: "How purity it'll shtuf out 'er little pockutbookY or. II wondher wull she lave ut in q dhry goods shop or hide ut in an ould shtockun But savin or shpindin, sure she'll be handlin Ter own. God bless herp'
 He expected to find young men sitting around tine shop in the evenings when he came home. and the sound of an accor- dion or flute or tambourine or familiar laughter reaching him as he approached the house served but to identify the orowd
 It was only when the accordion be- came his invariable greeting when, ever descending upon the family in the mid dle of the week. he found it still there that he began to consider that Carlotta had never told him about this young lnu- sician except to give his name in answer to question
 It seemed absurd to think seriously of so trivial matter, and yet when long time passed and the accordion. long wind ed or short of breath, according to the players mood, sent it's voice out pantlng or trilling to meet him he began to hate the sound of it and to wish that Carlotta would sometimes talk upon the subject
 She had told him how young Alessan- dro Soconnetti, who won prize in the lottery, had wanted her. and how Joe Zucca, the peanut vender, had vainly in- sisted on her love, and even of her cousin Angelo, who had tried to coax her to for get his kinship. Why had she forgotten to mention this strange boy who played the accordion?
 Pat seldom saw her alone now. except ing when occasionally on Sunday after moons he would take her with the chil- dren for ride up to the park, as had been his habit foryears. While the little ones played under the oaks or braided clover wreaths near, he would sit at her feet on the gnarled roots of the old trees and tell her about his life at ..the Dutch mans, and sometimes, though not often. he would speak of how he had missed her out of his daily life.
 He avoided this as much as possible, however. It was so hard not to be little tender when in his Irish heart was smol- dering fire that at the lightest breath would flare into a flame.
 He had promised himself and her to wait until she should pass her eight eenth year before allowing her to bind herself by solemn promise.
 She knew that he loved her; that he was working early and late, living with people who were in touch with him only in their determination to make money. and that it was all for her.
 Sometimes growing weary of his si- lence she would invite declaration by some naive question put in monosylla- bles. as when she said one Sunday as they rose to start home: --.zzs--
 You like me yet, WoonaY
 Like ye yeti Arrah, musha, an whut re ye sayin, darlint? Like ye? Sure love ye from the crown av yer purity little black head to the sole av yer two feet, an all the way back, wud lap over! An why dye ask me that?'
 But instead of answering him she only colored like rose and said:
 'I'm glad
 And Pat, lifting the children into the car, felt like kicking his wooden leg to the winds and flying. but he only. said as he sat beside her:
 "Begad an I'm glad ye're glad, ma vourneen Sure sorrow'll dim my day whin ye're sorry" And as he raised his eyes he saw sitting opposite young man who smiled and tipped his hat to Car lotta-and under his arm he carried an accordion.
 As he looked upon him Pat felt a shiver pass over him, for he thought he had never seen a youth so beautiful as he.
 That's Giuseppe Rubino,"- said Car lotta, looking into. his eyes with the di rectness of child.
 'Is it, indade2 Sure tuck i'm for a vision of S'int Joseph or wan av the angels. An isn't he beauty?''
 GSu, cS, <rc ~ool;,l kl,2 ~.s-1 =. she might have said, Ut is growing cold" or ''The river is rising"
 Pat regarded her with covert scrutiny for moment Could it be possible that she did not see that this tall brown boy. with his soft red lips and white teeth his lofty movement and languid grace, was a creature of rare and poetic beautyp
 Had she, too, not seen the red deepen . beneath the olive of his cheek when his eye met hers? Had she not learned in all the summer evenings what Pat had caught in twinkling-that the youth loved her with all the fresh ardor of a nature fashioned for romance?
 It seemed not, for she remarked in the same even tone:
 He comes ev'ry evenin pass the time away. He plays nice"
 If she had been saying she hated the boy. it would not have kept Pats heart from humping against his waistcoat while his eyes rested on the beautiful youth who was helping the girl he loved to ''pass the time away" during his ab- sence.
 "An whut does he do for Twin? Sure there's little money in the machine he carries wud all it's pufin an blowin."
 He's pore. He works fo' ol' Socola He hates him too He'ssavin up Bime- by he's goin too start for 'isself.
 An who told ye all that. Lottie3''
 He tol me-.
 An where did ye meet uni? E He come to fetch my paw note from ol' Socola. He says he seen me first in, his sleep one night. He talks funny