The Black Hills union. [volume] (Rapid City, Pennington County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1889-1904, 1895-08-30
HIS LITTLE NEIGHBOR.
BY OLA q. TOBEY.

SOAt uAC 4lUUlCa uCl01c
boracf the artist, clinging tosthe balns-
tiers with one hand, the other holding
aloft her pink skirts, slowly descended
the stairs, intending to confer a stolen
visit upon her friend, the artist.
The little neighbor, the little neigh
Der OF the artist, had eyes of blue and
curis OF gold. She was round, and fat,
n dlmpled as a cherub; 50, being
good to look upon, the queer old artist.
who didn't care for children. was In.
tefestHd in the small maiden, and
asFSaak lie enticed her into his studio
and wen pleasant and kind to the
little gFro hose mother did dressmak-
ing, AMOS ed in the two stufffy rooms
at the eper1 the hall above.
a gri1pre ely old bachelor was this
artist. niyhor said that once upon a
time he had loved a fair young girl
and that she had Tilted him for a
younger lover; but no one knew the
name OF the girl or the name Of the
man she welded, though Miss Marker,
who kept a millinery shop on the first
floor, told a tale something like this:
The week after the widow and her
daughter moved into the Won Alstyne
flats, that week, one day, the little
neighbours mother and the little girl
had been to deliver some sewing; and
the artist had been to the Italian quar-
ter after a model. 1t SO happened that
the widow and her child, and the artist
and his model, met just inside the door
of the first hall.
This is the pa inter-man, DEAR" said
the little neighbour, clutching her
mothers skirts to attract her atten-
ton. "The nice man in the album,
dear. The painter-man, dear, who
gave me the candy and the beenan-
ers."
"Hush, Mariory!" said her mamma,
her pretty, young cheeks ablaze
with embarrassment and annoyance.
She disengaged her skirts from the
grasp of the little fat hands.
Mamma told you she did not wish
for new friends. Mamma does not wish
to meet this artist said the widow,
looking meaningly into the eyes of her
daughters new friend.
But, DEAR" persisted the little
neighbor, when me told you how he
said What a zemblance,' you said you
wondered if it could be-you know who
you said, dear. And now you can ask
him, dear; can't she, Mr.. Painter
man?"
And the artist, returning the wild
ow's icy gaze with interest, replied:
Your mother does not need to ask"
And then, suddenly, he stepped for
ward, the anger gone from his sad,
wrinkled, old face; a great, wonderful
love and pity in its place.
Mrs. Somers, Mrs. Somers," he said,
clutching the hard, needle-roughened
hands of the little neighbours mother,
may we not, at least, be friends?"
Then mammals eyes filled with tears,
and, lifting her daughter in her arms,
she darted up the stairs. But at the
top of the first fight she paused, re-
penting her haste.
my baby may" she said, with a
smile.
But, very few people in Von'Alstyne's
flats believed the fairy tales of Miss
Marker.
When the widow and the artist met
on the stairs they bowed, but that
was all; and, though the little neigh
boris mamma gave permission occasion
ally, very often without permission the
little neighbor stole down to the
studio to have chats with the man who
painted pictures.
do you know" said the little neigh
hnr 0ro dow st+ho+ INV ,,o~, ;ers+ -
the ground, like mamma said he wasp
"No?" inquired the artist, more for
the sake of replying than because he
believed the statement.
"No,'; affirmed the little neighbour,
she isn't. Last night when
linked me was asleep her looked him
out Of a little velvet box and kissted
him. Yes, she did. 'Phare is 90, darr-
lin John?' her said. And then her
cried, an me cried, too. Me set right
up, cause me feeled bad, an me cried
yollered, an mamma, she kissted
me, an we bofe kissed me faver. Me
faver's a boofer faver. Yes, he is"
Il suppose So" indifferently re-
sponded the artist, going on with his
painting. Il don't remember him."
And the little neighbours blue eyes
opened widely. It seemed so strange
that every one did not know of
treasure.
Me does" she said. Me does"
~tAnd the artist, thinking of the
father, not the picture of the father,
sighed
Yes" he remarked, absently, 'sper-
haps you de-; though you were a mere
babe"
One othe4 day, one warn uncomfort-
iahfSrgf August, Mrs. Brent, who