Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1901-09-05
By W. HEIMBURG.


made excuses for the bedroom, whic
was at the back, was hardly BIZ
enough to hold the little bed. and wa
absolutely sitting with the smell O
cheese from the store-room of the littl
shop, which was directly beneath.
But Hilda Won Zweidorf said sh
was tired, very tired, and was sur
she should sleep beautifully; and, q
she spoke, her eyes shone so, ant
seemed to look so indifferently at tn
more than simple furniture, far, fal
away into some vague distance, tina
Aunt Polly came to the conclusion tha
she would have as an inmate one o
those dreamy, enthusiastic, artistic
natures that hardly know if they have
warm water set before them instead
Of coffee. In fact, Hilda declined
everything that was offered her, say
ing she was not hungry. But, on the
other hand, she was so heartily crate
full for the refuge she had found with
her dear Aunt Polly, and asked with
such an expression of touching sym
pathy for her aunt's health, that the
old lady, when the girl was finally shut
up In her room, did not know whether
to be glad or sorry; only one thing
was clear to her, and that was that
Hilda would neither cook nor sew nor
help to clearn up the house.
Neither Aunt Polly nor Hilda slept
much that night. The young girl
buried her glowing face in the pillows
and dreamed of wonderful future
The first step was taken. Hjida Won
Zweidorf had absolute faith in her
success in life; she had had a hard
struggle to gain her fathers consent
to her becoming an artist, and she had
carried out this struggle with a de-
termination that no discouragements
should overcome. 1t was impossible
for her to believe that she, Hilda Won
Zweidorf, could live on till all her
bloom had faded, as her sister Tony
had done, and as her other sisters
seemed in fair way to do She had
called them "pOor-spirited creatures
over and over again, and had tossed
back her head when she saw the foul
sisters who were still at home as
sembling in the little room every day
as the clock struck eight, to sew Or to
knit. "You are not human beings
you are mere machines" she would
cry out. "Do try something else. Go
out into the world; good fortune will
RI ta6 81
house; we must go and look for it!'
But the others thought Hilda was
too extravagant in her ideas; they
were far better off here at home than
Barbie and Lottie in their deaconess
house, where they were always in the
midst of sickness, misery, and death
Well, Hilda had never sewed; she
earned her money by painting On silk
and leather. She would sit out in the
meadow half the day, painting water
color pictures of the, old castle on the
other side of the river the oak-grove
which was marked out against the dis
tant horizon, or peasants hut with a
Wendish gable roof half hidden be-
1t was so lonely all around her, when
the golden sunlight rested on the
meadows, the monday bells sounded
from afar, and the bees hummed IN
the grass, her dark eyes would gaze
dreamily out into the distance. She
no longer saw what lay before her,
she only saw a bright, shimmering
chaos, very vague, far from clear, but
she knew it was happiness, and hap
piness was fame and riches; and then
he
HE" must be something very
aristocratic and distinguished. She
would not be always kept down in this
miserable poverty; she would mount
into the more rarefied atmosphere OF
the higher circles. And why should
she not? Hilda knew she was talented
and-beautiful. If she could only gel
away from this wretched place, WHERE
in the absence of any real men, the
gymnasiasts had dress coats made
for themselves and put on all the airs
of grown-up men. Hilda had never
been to ball In Altwedel, and wher
her sisters washed and ironed thesl
white dresses in the sweat of theil
brows, and turned their sashes or
the other side, she would shrug her
shoulders and say: 'Who is there te
see you?" And while the others were
dancing she was lying at home in bee
with wide-open eyes, thinking: How
shall I begin to see life, real life"
Hilda did not get on very well with
her mother; the shy, crushed air u
the pale woman always irritated her
Accustomed to receive only the yer.
smallest share of all that goes to make
up life, the humble woman had go
into the habit Of using a word which
she unconsciously wove into all he
remarks: Children, shall we have {
bit of broth today?" Or, I'VE will g
to church for bit today" Pap;
has a bit of headache" II hav
bought bit of stuff for dress TO
Gretchen. "Hilda, let US have bit
Of fresh air in the ROOM
Good heavens, mamma why should
we have bit? Fresh air doesn'
| cost anything, at any rate; you ca
| have as much of it as you like erie
| Hilda-
| "Oh, child, don't be so cross.
didn't mean anything by it; l wa
only bit absent-minded."
All, this life that consisted entirei
Of bits" had been frightful for Hid;
Then at last she had prevailed upo
| her father to write to her aunt
Dresden, and the bored, weary ma
had yielded for the sake of peace, q
he said; and, contrary to his e: