The San Francisco call., 1904-03-06

mother, do you suppose ever shall be
able to take any more lessons?"
"Oh, yes, Of course. We are In
large city now. Even If you don't make
enough money yourself, there are often
people who become interested in fine
voices and educate them. Perhaps
you'll meet one of them some day. And
anyway" with cheerfulness caught on
the upward breath of a sigh you'll
make money enough soon yourself.
Mariposa's head bent over the keys.
When she came to view it this way, her
SIG a month did not seem so big with
promise as il did when $40 for rent was
all it had to yield up.
I've heard about those rich people
who are looking for prina donnas TO
develop, but don't know where to find
them, and 1 don't see how they're to
find me. The only way 1 can ever at
tract their notice is to sing on the street
corner with a guitar, like Rachel. And
then I'd have to have a license. and
I've got no money for that"
She rose, and swept with the gait Of
a queen into the next room. Her moth
er was lying on a sofa drawn closely to
a tiny crate, in which handful of fire
flickered.
Lucy was still pretty woman, with
a thin, faded delicacy of aspect Her
skin was singularly white, especially on
her hands, which were waxen. Though
love and happiness had given her back
her youth, her health had never recoy-
cred her child's rude birth in the desert
and the subsequent journey across the
Sierra. She had twined round and
clung to the man whom she had called
husband, and with his loss she was
slowly sinking out of the world his
presence had made sweet for her. Her
daughter-next in alteration to the hero
who had succored her in her hour of
extremity-had no power to hold her.
Lucy was slowly fading out of life. The
girl had no knowledge of this. Her
mother had been a semi-invalid for sew
eral years, and her own youth was so
rich in its superb vigor, that she did not
notice the elder ,woman's gradual de-
cline of vitality. But the mother knew,
and her nights were wakeful and agon-
lied with the thought of her child, left
alone. poor and unfriended.
Mariposa sat down on the end Of the
sofa at the invalid's feet and took one
of her hands she had loved both pa
rents deeply. but the fragile mother.
so simple and unworldly, so dependent
on affection for her being, was the OBJ
ject of her special devotion. They were
silent, the girl with an abstracted
glance fixed on the fire meditating on
the future of her voice; the mother re-
garding her with pensive admiration.
AS they sat thus. football on the
steps outside broke upon their
thoughts. The cottage was so built
that one Of its conveniences was that
cne could always hear the caller or the
man with the bill mounting the steps
before he rang. The former were rarer
than the latter, and Mariposa, in whose
eventless life a visit from any one was
a thing of value. pricked up her ears
expectantly.
The bell pealed stridently and the ser
want could, be heard rafting pans in
the kitchen, ,~evidently preparatory to
emerging. Presently she came creaking
down the hall. the door opened and a
female voice was heard asking for the
ladies. II was visitor. Mariposa was
glad she had stayed in that afternoon,
and with her hand still clasping her
mothers craned her neck toward the
door.
The visitor was a tall, thin woman of
40 years, her cheaply fashionable dress
telling of many a wrestle between love
Of personal adornment and lean
purse. She was one sf those slightly
known and Unquestioningly accepted
people that women. in the friendless
and unknown condition oflthe Moreaus,
constantly meet in the free ard easy
social life of western cities.
She was z Mrs Willers lorg divorced
frcm a worthless husband and sup
porting, with a desperate and gallant
courage, herself and her child. who was
one Of Mariposa's piano pupils Her
appearance gave no clue TO the real
force and indomitable bravery of the
woman, who, gainst blows and rebuffs,
had fought her way with smile on her
lips. Her appearance and manner. es-
pecially in this, her society pose, were
against her. The former was fashy
and overdressed, the latter loud-voiced
and effusive. A large hat, Haunting
with funeral plumes, was set jauntily
on one side of her head, and spotted
veil was drawn over a complexion that
was CaIeleSSly mace up her cOrSetS
were so long and so tight she could
dly bend, and when she did they
emitted protesting creaks. No one
would have thought from her flamboy-
antly stylish get-up that she was re-
porter and special" writer on Jake
Shackleton's newly acquired paper. The
Morning Trumpet But in reality she
was an energetic and able journalist.
1t was only when adorned with her
best clothes and her society" manners
that she affected sort Of gushing silli-
ness.
WELL she said. rustling in, here's
the LADY, How's everybody? Just as
cozy and cute as a dolls house"
She pressed Mrs. Moreau's hand and
then sent an eagle glance-the glance
OF the reporter that is trained to take
in every salient object in one sweep
about the room She could have writ
ten a good description Of it from that
moments survey.
Better? OF course you're better"
she interrupted Lucy, who had been
speaking of improved health. Don't
San Francisco cure everybody? And