The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-03-17
Our Daily $bort Story

man Webster without money" His friend looked tnoughttully at the six feet of brawn and muscle with the towering shoulders.
 Are you going to call?' he asked shortly.
 No, I'm not" was the savage reply. Jim wisely said no more on the sub ject. and they bade each other good | night.
 climbed the steps of his lodging the street lights were just twinkling through the dusk. Without lighting the light, he pulled off his coat, drew up the shade, and settled himself com fortably in a great chair, where the breeze from the open window blew full upon him. He lighted cigarette. and as the fragrant smoke curled from his nostrils. he fell to dreaming. He did not know how long he sat thus. till he was awakened by a song which fioated to his ears. It was a simple little ballad of love, and at first the voice was so low and tremulous that he could scarcely catch the words. But the tones gathered strength. until the most glorious contralto he had ever heard burst full upon the stiffness. He leaped to his feet and stood by the open window. his ears eagerly drinking in every note. When the singing ceased he sank back in his chair trembling.
 By George" he excalimed. its the window next to mine"
 He waited for it again, but heard nothing more. Learning out the win dow, he saw that the next room was dark and the window closed. Twice he slipped on his coat and walked down the hall. past her door. but all was still and cursing himself for a romantic fool. he turned In, only to toss wake ful and restless throughout the night.
 This kept up the next day, and the day after. He tried every way his fer tile brain could devise to catch just one glimpse of the the Voice." as he called her, but was baffled at every turn. Most of this he laid to bad luck, some of it he thought intentional.
 One evening Jim Allen dropped in to see him. He found his friend rath- CT pale and very tired looking. Fos- ter mumbled something about a bad headache and passed it off
 As they sat smoking in the dusk, the Voice came again. in all its wondrous sweetness. Foster leaned forward, with set face, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. till his knuckles whitened. His companion merely .as- sumed a more comfortable position and blew rings at the gas jet.
 T knew 1t was some place over this way but didn't know exactly where?" he said to himself, with a silent chuc- kle But the longer we live the more we learn" Rid of this piece of wisdom. he chuckled again and turned his attention to the man by the win dow.
 When the song was ended, he had sprung to his feet, and was pacing the floor, his hands rammed deep in his pockets. his brow dawn in a frown.
 "Jove! She must be a goddessw he cried, haf-aloud.
 Allen whistled long and softly.
 By the way, old man." he asked in nocently, have you made up your mind to call on the Websters?'
 "Websters be hanged" grated Fos- ter. Didn't I tell you I wasn't going near there"
 Been introduced to your neighbor yet, the one with the glorious voice, you know" Jim queried, still with the greatest innocence.
 Billy closed up like clam
 'Oh. really I haven't thought much about it. he lied with an assumption of carelessness.
 That night Allen gave vent to many little chuckles on the way home.
 "Woudn't it be great. Wouldn't/it be fine? he calculated repeatedly to himself.
 The days wore on and Foster heard the Voice more often now, but try as he might he could not catch a glimpse of the singer. Every note only bound the chains more securely about his heart till try as he might, he could not burst them asunder. He com muned with himself, and tried long walks in the open air. But his efforts weakened day by day, till at last he gave in. and bitterly acknowledged to himself that he had fallen hope1essly in love with voice. the possessor of which he had never even seen
 He made up his mind to leave and even engaged other lodgings. but as he stood gloomily looking at the strapped trunks. a snatch of a song reached him, and with a sigh he paid the expressman and told him he had changed his mind. Half a fatalist, he yielded himself to destiny, and vowed to live for the Voice, and for the Voice alone.
 Through the wreaths of smoke float ing to the ceiling. his imagination had pictured her as slim and graceful. with a wealth of coloring. and hair and eyes