The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1901-02-25

OF the animal page" said kittyIHnaiiyi q
"if they hurry the etching again, be.
fore my poor dear little bears have
been half an hour on the presses,
they'll fill with ink and print gray. I'll
I'll leave money in my will to prose-
cute photO-engravers."
g "Oh, don't fret" said Miss Bryant.
"Magazne'll look well this week. Big
Toms the greatest Sunday editor that
ever happened; and I've got in some
good stuff, too"
"Of course your obligato'll be all
right" Kitty sighed; "but-oh, those
etchers and Yes. Big Tom'll do; ]
never see him fretting the art depart
ment, like the editor before last, to
sketch one-column earthquake c''rd.
ling cup of cream"
"How could anybody do tbat?' cried
Helen.
"Just what the artist said"
Miss Bryant looked slightly older
than Helen; in spite of her brusque,
careless sentences, suspected that she
was a girl of some knowledge, vast ell.
ergy and strength Of will. And sus.
picion grew TO certainty that she and
Reid were lovers.
might have read ii In his tone when
in the course of the evening he asked
her to sing.
"Then give me u baton she re-
sponded, springing to her feet
Rolling up newspaper and selling
bit of charcoal from the drawing
table, she beat time with both hands,
launching suddenly into an air which
she rendered with dramatic expression
as rare as her abandon.
applaud! Applaud" she cried,
clapping her own hands at the end OF
brilliant passage, her colorless, ir'
regular face alive with enthusiasm, her
black eyes swapping. "lf you don't APP
plaud, how do you expect me to singP
Nos plaudite!"
"I'll applaud when you've surely
stopped said Kitty Reid, demurely;
"but before we begin an evening OF
grand opera, want you to hear the
princess. Helen, you know you prom
ised."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Helen, color.
ing at the title, II can't sing before
Cadge; but if you like. I'll play for
you. See if I'm not improving in my
tremolo."
Helen did not sing in the old days.
so that was not surprised at her re-
fusal. Taking her mandolin, she
tinkled an air that have often heard
her play, but neither nor anyone else
had ears for it, so absorbed was the
sense of sight.
Her long lashes swept her cheeks as
she bent forward in the freight, her
vivid coloring subdued by the soft.
playing glow to an elusive charm. AZ
one moment. as the flames fickercd
into stronger life, her beauty seemed
10 grow fuller and to have an oriental
softness and warmth; the next, the
light would die away, and in the cool
er, grayer fainter radiance, her per.
feet grace of classic outline made her
seem n statue-Galatea just coming to
life. more beautiful than the daughters
OF men, her great loneliness deIicately
spirituaiin"d
If l were u beautiful woman, Id
learn to play manc olin.
"Sing. Helen,"- begged Kitty in q
whisper.
In voice that began TREMENDOUSLY,
low and faitering, and slowly gained
courage, she sang the ballad she had
been playing. II was easy to see that
she was not a musician; but, as she
forgot her listeners. we forgot every
thing but her.
Miss Bryant put down the compasses
and scale rule she had been restlessly
lingering. and her keen eyes softened
and dilated. Kitty dropped on the
floor at Helen's feet; the hush In the
room was breathless. Reid sat in the
dark. still as a statue; l clrnched my
hands and held silence.
The words were as simple as the air.
| But the voice, SO clear, SO sweet, so
| Joyous, like Helen's own loveliness--
| listening to the rarest notes that had
ever fallen on human ears-~unless the
tale OF the sirens be history.
As the last note died, the fire leaped,
| dropped and left us in dusk and silence.
Kitty buried her face against Helen's
| dress. My heart was pounding until in
| nv own ears it sounded like an anvil
| chorus. / don't know whether l was
very happy or very miserable would
| have died to hear that voice again. 1t
is the truth!
With a sudden sob and a shifting that
told Of tears uuashamed, Miss Bryant
found frivolous words TO veil our emo
ton.
| Ladies' and gentlemen" she quay
cred, this is high-class concert;
three dollars each for tickets, please
Helen. you don't know how to sing
but-don't learn! Come, Pros. the
big drops ran down her cheeks; "lve
got to look up story in the morning.
"Wait minute" said Reid, his long,
delicately shaped fingers trembling.
"Let me recover OH something
| Picking up Kitty's banjo, he smote
the strings lcertainly and half sang,
half detained:
"With my Ilya! lleeya! ieeya. Hullah!
| Haul
| Oh the Grpen that thundtrs aft along the
| deck
Are you sick of towns and mon? You must
| sign and sail again,
For it's Johnny Bowlcgs. pack your kit
and TREK
"By Jove! Kipling's right; nothing
| like A ban 10. is there? Now then.
Young Person, I'm with you. Good
night; good night"