The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1896-01-23

court, with its patch of dusty grass,
where here and there "A persevering
dandelion held alolt its golden pom.
pom, was pleasanter TO look on than
the dreary alleys into which the other
cellar windows looked.
But when the sun was hidden, and
the rain came down with its monoton.
Gus drip, drip, from the sides of the
high brick wall that surrounded the
little court, then the cellar seemed
very dark and very far away from
heaven. indeed and the young painter
was forced to come very near to the
south window, which was his only win.
dow, and often, TO hold his sketch close
to the rain.swept window panes in or.
der to work at all. And on these DAYS
he was not hopeful; for his dark eyes
caught shadows OF the sky without !;
his soul refused TO dream those dreams
of sunlit Spain for which the canvas
waited, and only his humesick heart
ached with longing for them.
And Parquarette dislikcd the rainy
days rs well. For when they came
she could not sit on the rickety old
flight OF stairs, which, Just outside the
painters door, led up to the garret
where she lived and on whose creak.
ing steps she sat, on sunny days, like
very plump angel on very uncer.
tain Jacobs ladder, to watch, un.
noticed, the painter at his work.
Parquarc,te was Iour, and herself
picture. Her round little face had
not lost its innocent babyishness, nor
her blue eyes their touching trustiul-
ness, just as her plump hands still
held their Uaby dimples. \ sunJurnt
little face it was, ior Parquarette
could never remember to keep tho
high'crowned sunDonnet securely tied
under ncr chin rs it was put, and in
an exciting moment IL was sure to be
pushed far back, until it hung on her
shoulders, swinging on TO the fat neck
by tn" strings relentlessly Knotted in
f-""t - lo"-i"c tho ia 20 q
o.,J ue
ournlshe> D., brownish curls free to the
sun and air. And many exciting mo-
ments had she and the sunbonnet ex.
perienced since the painter came to
live in the cellar.
lie was not a person TO attract
child, for his mouth was grave, almost
severe; he rarely spoke or smiled. and
his dark eyes were sad, save when they
flashed ominously ut times.
But lie was at work on Great pic.
ture.--a glimpse of Spain-aud to the
lonely child, who. when her mother
went out TO work IN the morning. was
left for long day to herself, who had
few toys and no companions, tins PIC
ture, which grew in beauty every day,
was rs n priceless treasure--a never
failing joy. Hour after hour she sat
with hands folded in her lap, not moy-
ing, scarce daring TO breath. lest he,
this magician who held on his thumb
the strange toard with its wonderful
dashes OF color, should look up, see
her there and send her away.
She had kept her silent watch all
through the making of tine long gray
wall that overlooked the deep blue
bay; had even watched in silence a
vine climbing slowly up the crumbing
stones and blossom into n scarlet flow-
er; and when the artist traced "a lion
in the stone, above the glowing
blooms painted 1t out-and in again
and out once more with one reckless
sweep, throwing the brush far from
him, with fierce word kissing he.
tween his teeth, she trembled to the
tips of her small bare tees flung back
the bonnet from her flushing cheeks,
and leaned forward so lar that she
seemed poised upon the very edge of
the dusty step, like timid bird ready
for Hight.
He was striding mp and down his
brlck'pavcl kingdom, muttcring to
himself:
"But will have him! Yes, ! will
have him! The moment is not yet my
own, but it will come. The picture
snail be perfect, 1t shall be TO her not
~ picture-but IA realization, living
hour She shall not forget She
shall not be another'sl"
He STOPPED and picked up the brush
from the corner where 1t lay, and,
wiping of the sand il had collected,
came back to his work with quick
impetuosity OF resolve.
With steady hand he sketched the
lion IN again, he painted on with free,
quick strokes, and in un hour per.
icct reproduction was his, OF the splen-
did form that guarded the wall IN the
ebadow OF the old Spanish fort.
cha, hal my beauty, In, hal" he
laughed, with last caress OF tone and
touch, 81 have you !"
"Nes, you've got him" came in
measured tones OF complacent couvic.
tion from the window behind him.
DO turned, and beheld his en-
thuslastic audience literally swept off
its feet; for Paquarette, by aid of the
rain tub, had reached his window sill,
and, forgetting her fears, knelt upon
IT, leaning anxiously forward on her
outspread hands, her wide,open eyes
glowing with excitement.
"When did you see him last, my