Waterbury Democrat., 1900-11-22

tlence at his friends inert drifting through life. But, with all their diff ferences, these two men held each other in the highest esteem, each ad- hiring in the other those very guai- ties which were lacking in himself. The artist lived in a fashionable | quarter of the city, in a bachelor apartment which included large and commodious studio fitted up ac- cording to the latest canons of artis- tic taste. 1 On this particular New Years morning, after waking and observ- ing. by the Altering of few bright | sunbeams through the closely drawn blinds, that it was broad daylight, he stretched himself with a voluptuous yawn and prepared to relapse into the sensuous enjoyment of that semi somnolent state which succeeds a night of calm and refreshing sleep. Just as he was settling himself comfortably, however, he was startled | by a knock at the bedroom door. Most men, under the circumstances, would have betrayed some vexation at being thus uncercmoriously dis | turbed. But there was no suspicion of annoyance in Sprague's cheery voice, as he exclaimed:
 You cannot come in yet, Mrs. O'Mcagher- I am asleep, and I shall ! be asleep fer another hour at the least. Surely you cannot have forgot ten that to-day is a holiday. Happy New Year! You have time to go to several masses before"
 Get up, old lazybones; and don't l a4 .,, this in1ospitable way, when he is in hurry," interrupted a voice whose timbre was not that of the house. keeper, Mrs. O'Meagher.
 "Oh! is that you, Sturgis?" laughed the artist. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself to come routing honest men out of bed at this unseemly hour? Wait a minute, till I put on my court costume, that I may receive you with the honors and ceremonies due to your rank and station"
 A couple of minutes later the artist, 1 pisuresquely attired in loose ori- ental dressing gown and fez, opened the door to his friend, Ralph Sturgis.
 Come in, old man, he said, cordial | ly extending his hand to the reporter; you are welcome at any hour of the day or night. What is it now? This is not your digestion call presume.'
 "No,' replied Sturgis, II merely dropped in to say that should be un able to take our projected bicycle trip this afternoon. I shall probably be busy with the Knickerbocker bank case all day. By the way, if you would 1 like to come to the bank with me, shall be glad of your company. l am on my way there now.'
 "I should like nothing better" said Sprague, but l have made an ap- pointment for this morning with a. er-er-with a sitter.''
 What, on New Years day, you heathen!"
 Sturgis observed the artist closely, and then added, quizzically:
 Accept my congratulations, old man."
 Your congratulations? inquired Sprague, coloring slightly.
 "Yes; my congra tulations and my condolence. My congratulations on the fact that she is young and beauti- ful, and possessed of those qualities of mind and heart which-and so on and so forth. My condolence because I fear you are hit at last"
 What do you mean?" stammered the artist, sheepishly; do you know her? What do you know about her ?''
 Nothing whatever" replied Sturgis, laughing, except what you are tell ing me by your hesitations, your reti- cence and your confusion"
 The artist spoke after a moment of thoughtful silence.
 Your inductions in this case are premature, to say the least. My sitter is young lady, so much is undeniably true. And there is no doubt in my mind as to her possession of all the qualities you jocularly attribute to her; but my interest in her is only that of an artist in beautiful and charming woman.
 At any rate," he added, after mo- ment's hesitation, T hope so; for have heard that she is as good as be- trothed to another man, | The reporters keen ear detected in his friends tones a touch of genuine sadness of which the artist himself was probably unconscious. Laying his hand gently upon Sprague's shoulder, he said, gravely:
 hope so, too, old man; for you are one of those foolish men whose lives can be ruined by an unhappy love af- l fair. l suppose it's useless to preach to you-more's the pity-but, in my humble opinion, no wcman's love is worth the sacrifice of a good mans 1 lzfe.''
 "Tes, l know your opinion on that subject, you old cynic," replied l Sprague, "put you need not worry on my account; not yet, at all events. I am still safe; the portrait is almost 1 finished, and I should be fool to walk into such a scrape wita ny eyes wide open.''
 'Humph!" ejaculated Sturgis, sker- tically, when man makes fool of himself for a woman, it matters little whether his eyes bc open or shut; the | result is the samc.'
 Sprague laughed somewha une asily; and then, as if to change the subject: | "Come and see the picture" he said. "l should like yOur opinion of it."