The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1901-10-08

began to hope again, to work faster, to
love his model better and always wonder
ing why Theriot left him in peace.
At last the day came when the picture
was done and ready to be carried to the
trainers The Courbois did not come.
Harker's squalid studio seemed like an
empty wine bottle, a broken fowerpot, a
vacant chair To distract his mind he
determined to confront his landlord and
learn the mystery of his long forbear-
ance.
Theriot received him with every mark
of respectful regard.
"Why did l not solicit you for my
rent? Why, m'sieu, simply because l am
paid. l am paid till October re fairst."
"Who paid your"
"a secret" Theriot said. He had prom
Used not to tell. Somebody had discharg-
ed the Buffalo's debt and prepaid his rent
till October. The artist grew red and
white by turns, cajoled, pleaded, threat
ened his landlord, but the latter was OBJ
durate, smiled and wagged his head. The
impulsive American blushed with min
gled pleasure and shame as he thought
perhaps the Courbois!' He went to
his master, who strenuously denied that
he had made the payment. He called
at Mile. Courbois' apartment, and she
solemnly declared that she had not been
guilty of any such outlandish benevo-
lence. She congratulated him that his
picture had been accepted and predicted
a medal-at least a mention for it.
"Have you no sweetheart, poor boy p
she asked him coquettishly. But she
looked grave, too, when he shook his
head and went away more puzzled and
yet more pleased than he had ever been
in his life before.
AS he neared his deserted home his
melancholy mood changed to rage against
the grinning Theriot, whom he saw
standing in the doorway.
"Theriot," he bawled, walking up to
the landlord, "I'm going to leave this
place tonight You can keep the money
you've got on my rent, but you've got to
tell me who paid it. Do you hear?"
roared the Buffalo, beginning to wave
his big arms menacingly. "You tell me
now-right off, or Pip
"Ah, m'sieu. patience" whined the fat
landlord, scared into a gray purple com
plexion. "Eet was m'amselle, re lady,
Courboise, but you must not tell prom
eese-you must
Harker ran nearly all the way to Mile.
Courbois' house. He almost trampled
over the old concierge who tried to de-
tain him at the entrance. 1t was dark.
He saw the lights in her window, and
moment alter he was knocking at the door.
The demure little maid opened it and
ushered him into the tiny parlor. Then
his model, in a smokelike tea gown, came
In.
at was you who paid my rent, after
ALP he blurted, his voice choking with
mixed rage, gratitude and shame. SIT
is useless to deny
"Ah, my good Buffalo," she cooed, lay
ing her cool hand on his, 'it was not
who did it. / was merely a messenger.
Come in the dining room and have a cup
of tea with US. | shall introduce you to
the person who wished to lend you that
small sum-"
She led him into the next room. He
saw M. Deschamps, the sculptor. sitting
smilingly at the table, and heard vaguely
Mile. Courbois saying:
'Mr. Harker, this is M'sieu Des-
champs, my husband. He compelled
me to pay that hateful Theriot had
told him about your splendid picture. and
he wanted to help us, to help you"
The Buffalo said something of course,
but he doesn't remember what it was.
His medal picture brought him 5000
francs. and he paid Deschamps. But
he has not forgotten his promise to LIE
febvre, nor does he regret that he made
and kept it.-Chicago Record Herald.