The Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1???-1928, 1906-11-19

| really wretched yon know, but only
| rather wrctched on this particular
night The people who kept the house
were quite respectable, nice people,
as you'll guess later on Our hero
assembled the creaking stairs which
led up several flights, TO his room,
and entered it, gloomily Il was
pitchy dark, save whore faint tay
from the lamp in the court below
struggled through the sr.mJ wiado"'
panes
why didn't the quite nice rospee-
table people have EN- cleaned
BE quiet Our hero noted even
by the rays iitiul CLEAN, the dlngy
poverty of the small apartment 10
need TO light The cheap lamp 70 show
himself the sordid sQualor Of the
room, Its every insignificant feature
was TOO deeply impressed upon the
artists brain
You said editor" l reminded her,
did /? Well, Wen lei it stand as
artist. said Kitty, cheerfully Just
stir the fire, viii You? My story is
making me feel positively chilly
Every item Of that mean apartment
was stamped"
You've said that already"
oh, well, this is the rest About
the duh walls were nailed the artist S
many sketches-bright patches Of col
or-~which, on happier occasion, had
given him always renewed confidence
Surely they weren't all bad, surely,
at last some one with seeing eyes
would perceive that they had merit :
But this waiting for recognition was
weary work and, now thar he had
come to the end of his slender re-
sources, the stern question had 70 be
faced Our hero in his terrible des-
pondency decided that he was fail
ure-that he must 50 back 70 the
hated task which his parents, and IN.
deed, all his relatives, had chosen for
him"
That's so like relatives. 90
served sticking their noses in
whenever they can.
For rather more than year he
had had his own way continued Kit
ty. He had tried to snow the worlt
that he was an artist, not a CLERK He
had, in all, sold three pictures and
this, with the small moneys Jat had
been his, on attaining his majority
had kept him alive in London Many
days he had lived on bread and but
ter, and-all that sort of thing
Nothing to drink
Il forgot Bread and water meant
But seriously, Reggie, | want You 10
understand that the poor boy had had
a terrible struggle. and that Just now
he was right down Faint hungry
utterly alone; sitting misega31g bs he
window of his little room. in the cold
darkness A failure-that what he
thought himself A failurc--a tbius
men either laugh at Or else despise
fancy | can understand. little how
he felt There were his pictures about
The walls. those that he liked best
Others that he had fancied We're more
marketable We're in the weatherworn
the table on entering The house was
empty, he knew that the people had
gone out to do their small Christmas
marketing He imagined himself
alone at the far end Of his one
chance--a failure Despair came upon
him He rose up and crossed to that
part of the room wherein the lamp
CLEANS betrayed his sketches. He
tore down first one. and then an
other and crushed them in his shak-
ing hands, and trampled them under
foot My ideals, he muttered Kit
ty was looking into the fire, steadfast-
ly. My ideals she repeated.
l moved restlessly lust then
just as he was completing this des
truction, there sounded a little noise,
went on Kitty, hurriedly A queer
frightened little noise At once he
jumped back towards the window:
struck a match There, on his bed
sitting bolt upright was a child-the
child of the house She had evident
~ been there long housekeeping in
the dark The artist steadied himself
TO light the lamp Then one could see
the stripped walls Even the small
dignity of his sacrifice was to be Ia
ken from him lie made a movement
Of weak anger against the child.
whose keen. precocious glance had
taken it all in She suddenly leaped
off the bed and gained the door.
Then as his hand turned TO tear an
other picture from the wall, she came
back into the room Give it to me. she
cried. piteously, You don't want It,
Give EN- all to me. / love them--I
love them They're all got Her
words ended in a sob; and the artist
stood and listened shiverinely to her
c'fiing And he was ashamed"
r. dear raconteur paused; and
the freight trembied over her pretty
face
"Well?" | asked. softly.
So, of course, he tried again. And
fought down despair and won
through" concluded Kitty
why do you tell me this story.
Kit?"
She rose and came over to my chair
and put her hand upon me in a moth
erly way. Because. after all. have