The Press., 1898-12-22
UNDER 1Ht BuoI
 Or BEETHOVEN.

The sparkling promise Of perfect Christmastide was in Il c air, and the old mall on the big common clicked and pat tered to the tread of gay crowds crossing either way, all winter rosy, bundled laden and bright eyed with exercise.
 Joyous excitement tingled in the frosty wind that with a keen rush swept the hare branches overhead and buffeted the skirts of laughing girls, who came on. leaning merrily against it and passed in bright whirl of petticoats, with little shrieks of fun One group of these, knot of pretty schoolgirls, with their skates, bound for the public garden, jos. tied against tall lad with a small maiden at his side and crowded them quite of the walk with little ceremony
 The only wonder is they did not crowd them out of notice, too, and out of this story nt the same time, for a plain, shabby little mouse was Draxy. trotting along at her brother siGe
 Those rosy girls, sweeping by in their bright gowns and plush and furs, looked so bewitching and so brilliant near her you could hardly help wishing the story to be about them instead.
 There were no fine feathers about Davy, e1tner, poor Idu-pOoT DOhHy DofJ HI AiS threadbare clOthesl
 Walking along behind him, you would have noticed how faded and thin his coat was, and perhaps you would have smiled at the great patch on the elbow of the sleeve his music was tucked under. But had you come the other way and met my Dayy's face believe me, you would never think of patches or of faded clothes, for there was something in that beautiful dark eye and brave. clear brow, a prince might envy him.
 fear he would not thank me, though. for choosing such time to introduce him when his head was dropping and the brown eyes were heavy with mist that almost gathered into drops
 "Davy," chirped Draxy at his elbow. oh, do you see what fun the boys are having playing football down on the pa rade ground?
 Davy cast heavy glance toward the lively youths but could not muster 6 word or smile to please her.
 Don [ look so awful, Davy," pleaded the little girl Besides, here comes that Ernest Msxwell, and he sees you"
 Up went Davy's head at that. and his eyes measured the approaching figure steadily
 Ernest Maxwell carried some music un der his arm too It was by the same divine composer as Davy's No sweeter because it had such an expensive binding, l am sure Neither was Ernest Maxwell, him. self, any Srander because of his own ex- pensive binding.
 But he seered to think that he was, and he gave Davy a very patronizing nod as he passed
 No use. DraxyH' burst out Davy, as soon as they were out of hearing, II don t see any justice in it, and cant bear it There's that snOb, Maxwell-his father is just coaxing him, bribing him, to go to Germany and study. Schwarz told me so in the class, yesterday"
 'Oh, my poor Davy! And you've got to give up your music and go to work in that horrid old place.
 "'Tisn't thatl 1 don't think I'd be mean enough to begrudge another fellow his luck. But-oh, how can l stand itl The noodle doesn't want to go, and won t go. I'd walk through fire for that chancei That's why don't get itp' Draxy looked very sorry, but she could think of nothing comforting to say just then, so she only crept little nearer to his side and cast her eyes around in quest | of cheer
 There, behind the iron fence. was the | old cemetery with its mounds and tombs. lying so still and cold in the winter sun, light
 Here and yonder, on the soldiers graves, still waved some drabbled rem nant of the little flags placed there, long months before, amid the flowers and the tender grass of spring. Draxy's eyes grew large and solemn as she looked, and it occurred to her, in some dismal association of ideas, to say darkly: "Oh, Davyl Did you know-they say-some of the tombs go under this mall, and there are people buried down below these flagstones we are walking | onp
 Dear little Draxyi All her efforts to be cheerful had failed to gain the least re- sponse from Davy But something about and hollow tone brought quick smile and flash of fun into his face, l "Yes, have heard it, " he said, looking down at the little face beside him with a loving and amused expression. | But presently he added in a bitter tone
 What thenf It is no worse to be lying underneath the stones than to walk on above them, all your hopes gone. ambi- ton crushed out of you. u."
 HiF voice quivered and broke Draxy stole her little hand in his, and they kept on again in doleful silence. 'Drax," said he presently in a tone of mischief that she knew full we'll
 "Whatf" she responded eagerly Here is the baroness, said Davy. oh, my graciousi Oh, Davy, please turn of and walk the rest of the way on
 Fremont street. can't go by that awful | old woman No. can't Oh, that mysterious old woman, crouch ing there beside the malls on the big com mon, grinding her old, cracked, half mute hurdy gurdyl
 Who has forgotten her! In rain and shine, year in, year out there she was al- ways, sullenly turning the organ crank, scorning the charitable who dropped pen- nies, and with her eagle eye piercing each face that passed. as if on the eternal watch for some one.
 Lean and gaunt and brown and wrin- kled was she-impervious and indestruct- ible-rained upon blown upon. shone up- on-it was all one. There she would be still when next you passed, familiar as the malls themselves, and yet forever mystery lr p,, r "Ugh-h.h!' chattered Draxy, who al, ways fell into a panic at the sight of her Il wonder who that awful old woman is