The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1903-01-23
A Cure For
Loneliness
BY W. R. ROSE


The air was mild and clear. Tht
children frolicked merrily among the
trees in the park. The white capped
nurses sat on the rustic seats here and
there and watched their charges OF
played with the smaller children who
nestled in wicker carriages with gay
colored canopies.
On one of the benches not far from
the entrance sat an elderly man. He
was straight and square shouldered
with a white mustache and grizzled
hair and a strong suggestion Of early
military training. He sat there be-
cause he liked to see the children at
play. They were better company than
mis-. thoughts. Anyway, he had little
else to do.
On this particular day he had watch
ed the playful elves as they darted in
and out among the trees until he had
grown tired The warm sun made him
sleepy. His gray head slowly dropped
back, his shoulders found restful
corner of the high backed seat, and
presently he was soundly sleeping.
A slight conclusion awakened him.
He opened his eyes with little start.
The sun was peeping through the
foliage, and the rays dazzled him. He
tried to raise hand to draw his soft
hat over his eyes and could not. Both
hands were pinioneG fast. He looked
down. A rope was encircling his body
hnII hi Foe l. s, std
He made an effort to release himself,
but without success. He fancied he
could sympathize with the feelings of
CULVER when he found the pygmies
had caught and bound him. He was
sure 1t was one of the playful fairies
whom he had watched so many times
among the trees. He was right. A
child's laughter broke on his ears. His
captor was close behind him.
"Aha," he said in what was intended
for very gruff voice, "are you there
Unhand me at once or tremble for the
consequence
The cord-it was a child's skipping
rope-was rapidly drawn from about
his waist, and moment later its own
er danced in front of him.
She was little girl of possibly z,
though at times her varying express
sions made her seem much older. Her
hair floated about her head in careless
waves and tendrils. her eyes were gray
and deep, her mouth was small and
beautifully shaped, and there was a
saucy upward tilt to her short nose.
'Pooh. pooh," she said, with mock
ing courtesy, 81 amt a bit afraid of
your
sand why notY the old man asked.
She was charming fairy, a natural
little coquette, and her every move
was full of subtle grace. "And why
are you not afraid of such a gray old
mustache as ann" he asked again as
she pirouetted before him.
Because you are my grandfather"
she carelessly answered.
The old mans face darkened.
"What do you mean by that non
sense?" he harshly asked.
"'Tain't nonsense" said the little
maiden, "uniess grandfathers is nom
sense. Anyway, you're my GRANDPA
Their" And she started to leave him.
"Wait," he cried. "Come here. What
did you mean by saying l am your
grandfather? Do you call every old
man you see grandfather"
"No," said the child. "Only you"
He studied her face sharply.
"Come a little closer" he said in
coaxing tones. She marched boldly up
to him. Her little hand flew up and
touched the front of her cap.
''Thats the way to salute soldier"
she said, with merry laugh. Mamma
said you was one."
He caught his breath.
Perhaps" he slowly said, "you can
even tell me my name?"
eyes. can" replied the child. "Tts
easy. Your name is Philip. An now
guess what mine is"
isis it Mary?" he gently asked.
mo" laughed the child. "Thats
mammals. Mine is most like yours.
It's Philippa."
The old man was silent for a mo-
ment.
''Is your mother here, child?" he sud-
denly asked. 'Is she lurking about
among the trees"
"Who? Do you mean mamma n
cried the child. "She isn't here. She
hasn't no time for trees. She's always
too busy. Didn't you know she paints
Yes; she paints lovely little pictures.
AIinichoors she calls them. They're
pictures of people, don't you know,
only much prettier. But sometimes
neople don't nay very quick. an some.
times they think mamma charges toe
much, an sometimes she doesn't have
any pictures to do. Then, you know
its pretty hard to have the landlord
call. guess you know how that u.s."
"And where is your father?" and the
old mans voice suddenly grew hard.
"He's beaded in Callyforny," said the
child. HE was an actor, you know; &
stage actor. don't member him very
well. was too little when he went
away. I've tried to act. too, but Della,
that's the janitor's wife, she says ]
can't act for shucks."
"Good thing" muttered the old man.
swell, don't know" said the child.
eYou see, 1 wanted to do somethin to