The Monticellonian., 1906-04-19
The Redemption of a HunChback By ELEANOR H. PORTER
1 CopyrIght, lgO0. by Joseph B Bowlesl

I bought a curious old desk last week at a still more curious old shop on Third avenue. That night, as 1 was gloating over my new treasure ehaneed upon an inner secret drawer; and there found-torn straight across from top to bottom-a closely written manuscript.
 Carefully matching the jagged edges together read this:
 So her name is Alice, It's pretty name-but what Is that to me? What have to do with pretty names or pretty faces, or yet with pretty fan cies?
 Remember What indeed, do not remember?-a yes; there are some few things, after all. l do not remem- Der kisses. save those of eompassioni nor smiles, save those of pity. l do not remember romps and games save those that for me bore defeat
 l do remember eyes, my moth CTS eyes. always mournful when turned on me; and other eyes, my fathers. always quickly ayerted, if by chance they met my own. There were still other eyes, round. widely opened, curious. yet frightened. my playmate's eyes. always following me about with fascinated horror.
 Was it the eyes that first told me l was not like other boys? Or was it. the Mirror? The Mirror was a fearful thing of shifting lights and shadows. It reached from floor to ceiling in mothers room, and it said that one was small and ugly, and that ones head set far forward on shoulders that were high and squarely cut It said that ones back was not straight and slender like Toms or Dicks or Bills, but that it crooked and curved and punched into a great round knot below ones neck.
 School? An. yes, I remember school. It was thing Of hard. high seats, and of boys and girls, all tall. so hopeless ly tall a thing of large. round eyes, all mirrors, and of romps and races i'll which alone had no part
 School was followed by college. and college was but school intensified When it was over I took up law.
 And now from early morning until late at night l work and study, save that at four each day I walk in the park It was in the park this after noon that I saw-Alice.
 She sat alone on one of the seats, and I stood for a long while watching her from behind a screen of shrubs. Her pretty head was tilted back against tree trunk, and her brown hair flashed golden in the sunlight that came slantwlse through the trees. Some dainty worsted stuff of pale blue lay in her lap. while her slender fin gers toyed with two long knitting needles of ivory.
 By and by girl older than himself came hurrying up.
 Did keep you waiting. Alice?' she said.
 Alicei But what, indeed. have I to do with pretty names, or pretty faces, or yet with pretty fancies?
 My brain is on fire. my hands trem- Sle. and l can scarcely breathe; but l must write, even though I am forced to resort to my old trick of using my left hand-my right wrist was sprained today.
 I must put this thing into words. then look at them. study them, and understand what they mean.
 When l reached the park today. Alice was already there, laughing and playing with kitten. The ball was half unwound so that long coils of blue lay loosely over Alice's dress and over the grass at her feet Suddenly the kitten. with the ball between her teeth. jumped to the ground bounded across the path and the narrow strip of grass and into the roadway beyond.
 Alice. with a laughing protest, sprang to her feet. and. passing the blue thread hand over hand. quickly