The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1894-05-29
MY NEIGHBOR.

the street, no one, | am confident, will
visit London for the express purpose of
satisfying himself that L am to be de-
pended upon, and that there is house
of so many stories in Lambert street.
Here lived in enjoyment Of no end Of
fresh air, especially in winter, and a
brilliant prospect up and down the
street and over the roofs of the houses
across the way.
1 was studying painting at that time,
learning to paint the landscapes and
figure pieces which ! produce with so
much ease and dispose Of with so much
difficulty.
At the head of the last fight of stairs
in my lodging house was a narrow pas
sage way, in which l was obliged to stop
and recover my breath after finish
ing, much wearied, the 1879 steps
that led to my paradise, before | could
get my key into its lock, and into this
passage way opened two doors, one Of
which, of course, belonged to my room,
and the other to some one else's. But
who this some one else was | was UNI
able to find out Was it man or wom-
an? l was persuaded it must be wom-
an, and as a woman / always used to
think Of her and speak of her to myself,
and / thought and spoke of her often
enough.
OF course / could have settled the
question at once by knocking at her door
and asking for match or by inquir-
ing of my landlord, who occasionally
honored me with friendly call, but
scorned resorting to such methods.
Every time / heard the door shut l
resolved she should not go out again
without my seeing her, and | nearly fell
into the street as / frantically attempt
cd to reach far enough out of my win
dow to see her as she came out at the
street door.
Was she young and pretty and good?
What did she do, and what was her
name2 My thoughts were perpetually
running up those six flights and stop
ping baffled at her close shut door.
drew ideal portraits of her in my
idle moments, introduced them into all
my pictures and would often finish out
an accidental face in study Of rocks,
much to my instructors surprise and
my fellow students amusement
The only communication / ever had
with people in the house was an occa-
sional conversation with the dust color
ed old woman who cleaned the windows
and swept the halls
A day came for cleaning my windows
when it rained heavily, and could not
give the old woman clear stage by go
ing out for couple of hours, but told
her to clean away and be as lively as
she could, while sat there and painted.
Lodgers, she told me as she polished
up the panes, came and went SO fast
that she forgot one when another came
and never knew any of their names
She had an eye for character, though,
and told me the peculiaritles of some of
them in quaint way, mailing her SEN
fences now and then with odd, hard
words, Independently of the general
text
Gentleman who's under you keeps
'imself quite to 'imself," she said.
"Plants out queer sasses in boxes all the
time an some of 'em on the balcony it.
self. P'r'aps makes kinder tea Of EN-,
or root drink Decoctifies. .
"And who is i'll the room below that?"
I inquired, more to make her talk than
to satisfy any curiosity l had ON the
subject.
Empty now. Two dark little gentle
men 'ad it for a fortnight-Jews, fan
CYAN as like one another as two spots
O. dirt on this ere pane O. glass. Spoke
a hard billed kind o. tongue an was fur
riners, most likely Polyanders.
l might have asked her about my
next door neighbor, but refrained for
fear my pretty romance would be de-
stroyed by description of a middle aged
spinster who wore glasses and wrought
green roses in crewel work.
When she had finished the windows
and gathered up her brushes and pals,
she paused an instant to give back
ward glance at her completed task. The
sun had broken through the clouds and
rested tenderly on the STOPPING figure of
the old woman in her faded rags.
"What picturep l thought invol-
unfairly Then aloud | said, 'Will you
come some time and let me paint you,
Maggie?"
"Mep' she cried, startled.
eyes, just as you are now, scrubbing
brushes and all. VIII you comeT' /
cried, my enthusiasm rising.
Law Why dye want to paint an
old woman like me, Mr. Carroll. with
a face wrinkled like peach pitt Why
don't you paint pretty girlf Old wo-
1nen are painted though sometimes, but
only to make 'emselves look young agen
Ha, haH
1t was useless to argue the point with
her, so only said;
eyes, but want you, Maggie. Will
you conner"
Law, If ye really wanter ave me,
I'll come, sir, cause you've been very
good ter old Maggie.
The sittings began the next day, and
! derived much amusement from the old
woman's conversation while painted
away with might and main, resolved
that this picture should be hung at the
salon next spring, and my imagination
even went so far as to speculate ON the
most suitable style of frame
AT first it was only Of the other lodg
ers that old Maggie gossiped, but one
day when she was looking very tired
questioned her kindly about herself, and
she finally told me her story.
The old woman had evidently taken
a great fancy to me, and | wish | could
remember the quaint words in which
she told me of her girlhood in London
and her courtship by man poor like
herself, though much above her in sta
tion--a newspaper writer, she said he
was.
when we were first married, we
took little country 'ouse that made
me think of billed dinner, for twas
painted in red an green an deep yaller--
Jest like that paint you re mixin up now
-carrotty. Then the baby came, "
Her whole voice and manner changed,
and during the rest of the story she
dropped the abrupt wittioisms for a
tremulous eagerness
Ibid ye know / 'ad son, Mr.. Car
roll9''
"No," ! answered, intent ON my
work. where is he now2"
"'E's rich man now, an gentle
man, I" she said proudly and yet with a
usefulness that made me glance quick
" at her face.
II could only get that expression