The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-05-31
A BIRD OF PASSAGE,
BY BEATRICE HARRADEN.

1t was about I'm the afternoon when a
young girl came into the salon of the lit
Tie hotel at c., I'm Switzerland, and drew
her chair up TO the fire.
"You are soaked through, said an eld-
erly lady, who was herself trying to get
roasted. you ought to lose no time In
changing your clothes
II have not anything to change" said
The young girl, laughing "Oh, shall
soon be dryi'
'Have you lost all your luggagci" ask
ed the lady sympathetically.
"No," said tho young girl: "I had mono
70 lose," and she smiled = little mischiev-
ously, as though she knew by instinct that
her companions sympathy would at once
degenerate into suspicion
Il don't mean TO say hayo not KNAPP
sack, she added consideratcfy. II have
walked long distance--in fact, from z"
"And where did you leave your compan-
ions'" asked the lady, with touch Of for.
giveness in her voice.
II am without companions, Just as
am without luggage, laughed the girl.
And then she opened the piano and
struck few notes. There was something
caressing In the way In which she touched
the keys. Whoever she was, she knew
how TO make sweet music--sad music
too, full Of that undcflnable longing, like
the holding out of ones arms TO ones
friends In the hopeless distance.
The lady bending over the fire looked
up at the little girl and forgot that she
had brought neither friends nor luggage
with her. She hesitated for one moment,
and then sho took the childish face be-
tween her hands and kissed It,
MI for Sf, ch.
said gently
"The piano Is terribly out of tune" said
the little girl suddenly, and she ran out of
the room and came back carrying her
knapsack.
"What arc you going to do7" asked her
companion.
II am going 20 tune the piano, " the lit
tie girl said, and she took n tuning ham
mer out of her knapsack and began her
work in real earnest. she evidently knew
what she was about and peggcd away at
the notes as though her whole life depend
cd on the result.
The lady by the fire was lost in amaze.
ment. Who could she bei without lug
gage aud without friends and with q tun.
ing hammerl
Meanwhile one OF the gentlemen had
strolled into the salon. but, hearing the
sound Of tuning and being In secret pos
session of nerves, no fled, saying, "The
tuner, by Jovc.'
A few minutes aftcrward Miss Blake,
whose nerves were no secret possession,
hastened into the salon and In her usual
impcrious fashion demanded instant ST.
lence
II have Just done, - said the little girl.
''The piano was so terribly out of tune
could not resist the temptation"
Miss Blake. who never listened to what
any one said, took 1t for granted that the
little girl wrs the tuner for whom M. 10
Proprietairc had promised TO send, and
having bestowed on her n condesccnding
nod passed out into the garden where she
told some of the visitors that the piano had
,heen tuned at last and that the tuner was
q young woman of rather eccentric appesg.
ance.
"Reai1y, II Is quite abomipable how
women thrust themselves into every pro-
fession," she remarked in her masculine
voice. 1T is SO unfeminine, so unscemly."
There was nothing Of the feminine about
Miss Blake. Her horsecloth dress, her
waistcoat and high collar and her billy
cock hat were Of the masculine genus.
Even her nerves could not be called femi-
nine, since wo learn from two or three doc
tors--taken of their guard--that nerves
are neither feminine nor masculine, but
common
II should like TO SEQ this tuner" said
one of the tennis players, leaning against
a tree.
Here she comes" said Miss Blake as
the little girl was seen sauntering into the
garden.
The men put up their eyeglasses and
In 1aI Oh gh 90
soft brown hair, of strictly feminine APP
pearance and bearing. The goat came to-
ward her and began nibbling at her frock.
She seemed TO understand the manner of
goats and played with him 10 his hearts
content. One of the tennis players, Os-
wald Everard by name, strolled down to
the bank where she was having her frolic.
GOOD afternoon, he said, raising his
cap II hope the goat Is not worrying you.
Poor little fcllow This is his last day of
play. He Is TO be killed tomorrow for table
d'hote"
"What shamc!" she said. Fancy to
be killed, and thon grumbled atl'
That is precisely what we do here, I" he
said, laughing I'VE grumble at every
thing we eat. And own to being one Of
tho grumpiest, though tho lady in the
horsecleth dress yonder follows close upon
my heels.
She was the lady who was annoyed at
me because tuned tho piano., the little
girl Said. "Still IL had to he e-deae--It MAS
plainly my duty. / seemed to have como
for that purpose"
1T has been confoundodly annoying
having it ont of tune, - he said. i've had |
10 give up singing altogether But what |
a strange profession you have chosen
Very unusual, isn't itp'
why, surely not, she answered, anus
ed. 1T seems to mo that every other wo- |
man has taken TO it. The wonder TO me |
Is that any one ever scores q success. Now
adays, however, no one could amass hugo |
fortune out OF it.
"No one, indeedl' replied Oswald Ever
ard, laughing. What OH earth made you |
take to iti"
1T took TO me, she said simply lit |
wrapped me around with enthusiasm. 1 |
could think of nothing else vowed that |
1x.toa