Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1904-07-16

ma uOWu tne sCube, Chcciiu'' Noih
panlonable torrent of melody that
brought responsive smile to her face.
After that she heard 1t frequently.
Sometimes it began early in the morn
ing, while she was yet busy over the
tiny gas stove; sometimes 1t broke oil
! in the middle, and left her hearkenlng
almost breathlessly for the next note;
sometimes Il day or two passed with
out a sound from the fourth floor, and
she was dimly conscious of sort OF
loneliness quite new to her who had
experienced so many sorts.
At first she had thought him teach
or of music. Later she knew the
bursts of melody were but Outpourings
Of triumph. that,.ha Iulartsdnfg well.
lust as she, when she had finished a
bowl or tray or bit of barbaric jewelry
that satisfied her soul, perked her lit
tie brown head like sparrow, puck
cred her red lips, and whistled a tune
with ludicrOus effect.
! On the door of her room was a mod.
est placard announcing to the world
that
ELIZABETH DAY,
Designer and Worker in Metals,
lived within. 1t had taken a deal of
! courage to print that "Elizabeth," FOR
all her lfe-twenty- years, to be
eXact-she had been simply Beth, "
an abbreviation far more suited to her
diminutive statue and gentle ways
than the more pretentiOus entirety.
Nature had intended her, with her
soft and dainty femininity, for q life OF
independently in some still, untrOuble(l
corner of the world; Fate had forced
her, at twenty into the swirllng cur,
rent of New York. AS yet her work
| bowls, trays am. vases of silver, cop
per and brass, decorated with enamel
| bracelets, chains and buckles set with
unpublished stOnes-beautifu and dis.
| tinctive as it was, sold slowly. But
! she possessed wealth Of courage and
perseverance all unsupported ere the
death of her parents had sen: l.er from
the little New Hampshire village to
seek her fortune. She had been in the
old house on Washington Square al
most two years when the fourth floor
studio found tenant.
One day she had learned his name.
Seeking letters from the pile in the
lower hall, she found colorman's cat
alogue addressed to John Timson,
Esq.," She had smiled at the name;
TimsOn was so unusual and quaint and
funny! John she liked; her fathers
name had been John. All the morning,
as she worked at the dull copper. she
strove to picture a personality betit,
| ting the name Of John TimsOn.
A week later she saw him. They
met on the stairs, and he drew aside
for her; she passed, with little In
clination of her head. All the way up
/ to the top she felt his gaze upon her;
but recalling the grave eyes and re-
spectful manner she felt no annoy
ance, only wondered about the placket
of her skirt. After that they bowed,
and then spoke. Meetings became
frequent. Once he had found her un.
der the striped awning of an Eighth
street grocery waiting for shower to
pass. He had no umbrella to Offer so
he shared her Imprisonment. and af,
| terward, when the sun came out and
! shone resplendently on the wet roofs
| and poOl-dotted sidewalks, they went
home together, and discussed quite
in the manner of long acquaintance
the relative merits of fresh and con-
densed milk.
That day she had examined him to
her hearts content. He was tall; her
head came just to his shoulder when
she tried hard. He was wide Of chest
and shoulder and his hands, as though
from long exposure to sun and wind,
We're large and capable. His mustache
and short beard were brown, as were
the grave and earnest and deepset
eyes. The nose was straight and
large, and the forehead high. He was
undeniably handsome in strong, grim
fashion. His habitual expression was
sober, but the smiles when they came
We're worth waiting for. In age he
was thirty-four. His voice was what
attracted Beth most. 1t was in the
lower register. a deep, soft and mel
low voice that won respect and suited
his quiet. deferential manner.
Aside from the little weakened deal
err in old worries and curiosities on the
first floor, they were the only occupants
Of the house who made it their home
That served as bond Of sympathy
| I'd Itcn1vn,oI al hax
were both orphans and both without
near relatives; they were both strug
Cling for recognition. he rs painter
Of landscapes in oils, she as worker
in metals. And then there were minor
sympathies born of similar tastes and
views which came to light In that first
year Of their friendship.
It became his custom to drop into
her room for moment OH Lis way NJ
and down stairs. and then in the even
ings for long, enjoyable talks, while
he sat in her one. easy chair ant
smoked and she worked away at al
order or did her mending. Once weel
he descended tremendously, immac
ulately clean, but diffusing strong
od0r Of paint, and took luncn with her
gravely marveling at the display ant
pretending alarm at her recklessness
Indeed, those luncheons for two wer,
invariably followed the next day by
repust for one of Spartan simplicity
Once he had returned her hospitalit,
he had sold small canvas-and they
had dined sumptuous Y a. one end o.
his paintstained table on lobster cut
let's and French peas and asparagus
sent in chilled, but aopetlzing, from
the cafe across the Square. And h,
had made marvellous coffee in an oil,
copper kettle, and had produced a bot
tie of Hives, which, he solemnly de
clared, had been two years awaitin:
the occasion.
Usually he called for her at the In
stitutc in Brooklyn-she still attend
cd an evening class three times
| wcpk-anl brought her home One