Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1895-11-14
. 4 SONG IN PASSING.
By Abbie Farwell Brown.

ana very cross Inc aICerDOO0 EaQ /
been most trying. At his practice
hour the piano was out of tune, the &C
companist had played abominably,
and he half suspected that he had F,
himself made q false note. Where
upon he had called the lucllless Celes-
tine by some very hard Italian names,
and Selling his hat and coat had
started out for walk in the avenue to
relieve his ruffled feelings.
As he walked along briskly in the
clear, cold winter air, noting how PEG
pie paused to look at him, nudging
one another as the famous singer
passed, his spirits slowly rose. He
was very handsome, was II Tenore,
and the ladies were always wont to
, eye him admiringly, even when they
did not know that his broad chest
could send forth one of the finest
voices in the world.
! II SignOre was forgetting all about
: the opera which was to come that
night, forgetting the unpleasantness of
the afternoon, his hatred of the robus-
! tious basso and his jealousy of the
/
ting Verdi and Meyerbeer and Gounod
and contenting himself with the beau
tiful weather and the comfortable feel
ing of being alive and strong and we'll
and good to look upon. Now he need
be no languishing troubadour, no i'll
starred Huguenot, nor even a bereaved
lover, but just an ordinary man like
all the others only handsomer.
II Tenore was smiling softly to HIM
self at the wide-eyed looks of admira~
ton in the faces of two pretty school
girls who had just passed him, when
an unwelcome sound struck upon his
sensitive ear. The smile faded from
his lips and a frown wrinl1led the COM
piacent forehead as his eye caught
sight of the obnoxious travelling piano
and the quaint little figure which was
making the music CO."
II Signore strobe angrily to the
curbstOne.
"Bastar' he cried in fierce Italian to
his humble little compatriot, "why do
you shrek at me that horrible tune ?
5 Why do you sound it to me-to me, II
: Tenore? Cielo! Do I not hear it often
enough? Do I not work over it night
and day, and must I always hear when
l would forget for moment? All
must I not sing it tonight, that note
: which drives me crazy-Corpo di
BaCco! it is maddeningr'
| The poor italian maid had begun to
cry at the first angry tone of the grand
: gentleman who had spoken the only
: words which she had understood since
morning. But such unkind words!
= fT did not know, Signore," she be-
gan.
, Bah! You did not know! Well
take yourself off; I will give you this
: not to sound that tune to me again,
l and he thrust a round silver dollar to-
ward the girl, who was drying hei
$ eyes OIL her green silk apron.
l But the little maid did not reach for
l ward to take the money as he had OK
pected.
20 Sigrore," size cried eagerly, 80
= played it this time, as l always play il
, more, do you really sing the beautiful
: music?" and an expression Of wonder
came into her soft brown eyes as sht
;, raised them admiringly to the tenor''
handsome face.
y you love the music? My little
aria?" he cried, half pleased, hal
] scornfully "Well, my child, and why
do you love it so we'll that you play i
always on your horrible instrument 81
q that l must hear it as I go by? Bahr
G 20 Signore, it is SO beautiful, so ten
g der, so full of the great feeling. I love
the master who wrote it so we'll, and
I feel that I could love the one wht
T sang it, too, if he sang it as the grea
7 master meant. Oh, | feel how HI
c would do itn' and the little brown
= hands clasped themselves eagerly to
gether on the blue silk kerchief
b $50 you know how I should sing it
do you? Well, my child, you shall
come and hear me, and I hope, LITTLE
one, that my singing will please yol
as the great masters would hav,
DONE" and II Tenore hastily wrote
. few words on a card and handed it t.
the still Wonder-eyed girl.
80 Signore, a thousand thanks" tn.
: girl began to say fervently. But thu
handsome gentleman was already
=. gone, and Bettina looking after hi!
departing figure, then glanced down a
the bit of cardboard in her hand anC
breathed quick sigh of wondering
delight. Could it be really true, anG
was she going to hear the grand gen.
tleman with the dark, shining eyes
and the lovely long mustachios sing
her song-her beautiful song?
Bettina crept between the shafts OF
, the piano and dragged her heavy in
struments to the next block. Her
days work was not ended yet and
many weary hours must pass before
:, that would come to pass for which her
soul was longing. But all that after
noon the tired little feet trudged man
fully over the cobblestones and the
=, round weary arms turned the heavy
!, crank with new zest and dragged the
, heavy machine with back aching
=, less than usual. For, tucked into her
bodice, close over her eager little
, heart, she felt a magic talisman
against WEAKNESS and unkindness and
disappointment. But she played ner
favorite tune no more that day
Bettina's father was a paper flower
! maker. He had been famed bv horse