Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1903-04-08

1i.Gf n lI iYY;;fAt iY;A e df tIhy rii1n. = =
z What do you want hcre71'. Haswel
demanded sharply. ;;
"Do Mr.. Severano live hereR asked
very soft, childlike voice.
"No, he doesn't" Haswell answered
brusquel,' There arc no Italians II
this apar, Mt house. You had better
get out before you're put out"
"Hc told my friend he live here" thc
boy said, apologetically. '"He have
promised to let me play fol- him.
need work very bad, Mister" ,.
"Oh, I dare say! Some begging game
of course: Well, you won't make any
thing here, can tell you." Then fol
the first time he saw the violin under
the boys ragged arm. "Do you play
that thing" he asked; curiously
"Yotl're not more than child"
IT am sixteen. Mister" the soft, up
pealing voice answered.
"Well, you're mans not.-here," Has
well retortcd briefly, closing the door
and going back to his cheerful hearth
But that last glimpse Of the pathetic
little face made. him uncomfortable
He opened the door once more, and
leaning over the banlsters, called down
to him: "Comc up," he: said rather
grudgingly, II may be able to help you
find your friend"
The boy pattered softly up the steps
Once within the brightly lighted room
his poverty and WEAKNESS became pain.
fully apparent; his trousers and coat
were frayed and ragged, and his big
loose shoes were full Of gaping holes
Haswcll took the old violin from his
numb grasp and bade him throw of
his coat, which he did fumbingly, for
his hands were stiff and blue with
cold Lis trousers were wet to the
knees, and the melting SNOW: oozed
steadily from the broken toes Of his
shoes. Haswell stared. ut his sad
figure helplessly. Z
where do you llve?" he demanded
abruptly.
"In Greenwich street, Mister"
Down town, I presume. Must you
go home to-night?" -:
The boy shrugged his shoulders with
a gently depreciating smile. .Nobody
don't care if I don't" he answered. :
"Then you had better stay here. You
can sleep on the coucn, yonder, when
you're " cleaned up. You are wiring
ing wet and cold rs ice. Tell you what,
I'll run a tubful of warm water, and
you can take your bath while I;hunt up
some dry things. After that you can
tell me about yourself" -
When the strange little figure
emerged from the bathroom arrayed in
Haswells spacious pajamas, with his
black, sill,en thatch washed and curl
ing crisply MI around his pale face,
Haswell noticed that his delicate, re-
fined beauty was quite extraordinary
and altogether irreconcilable with his
rags and misery. Haswell poured out
the coffee lie had stepped over his
alcohol lamp, and set before his guest
plate Of crackers and cheese which
he bade him eat, while he finished his
work, but although the host made q
creditable felnt of writing, he did not
for an instant take his eyes from the
beautiful, pallid face which the mel
low freight threw into sharp relief.
Why did that stranger child interest
him SO overwhelmingly? he asked him
self grimly; was it because Of the pos
slble story it held, or had he touched
the glossed-over springs Of human
sympathy which had lain dormant SO
long under the stolId Indifference that
cloaked the hermit Of the flats?
1t was pathetic little story that the
lad had to tell, and he told it in falter-
ing English, with. now and then word
of his servian mother tongue to Offset
its pathos; of his immigrant father. a