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

| Org court our nero discovered ~
length, the wretchea abode In whlhh
IL was his present lot to reside she
corrected herself, aAt least II wasn't
really wretched yon know, bur only
rather wretched on this particular
| night The people who kept the house
were quite respectable nice people.
as you'l guess later on. Our hero
assembled the creaking stairs which
| led mp several flights, TO his room.
| and entered 1t. gloomily II was
/ pitchy dark save whore faint ray
| from the lamp in the court below
struggled through the sy,my wiudo"t
panes.
why didn't the quite nice rcspoc.
table people have EN- cleaned
Be quiet Our hero noted. even
by The rays Atul CLEAN, the dingy
poverty OF the small apartment no
need 10 light The cheap lamp 10 show
himself the sordid squalor of the
room Its every insignificant feature
was too deeply impressed upon the
artists brain
You said editor" / reminded her.
did L? Wen. wen lei ii stand as
artist. said Kitty, cheerfully Just
stir the fire, will you? My story Is
making me feel positively chilly,
Every item of that mean apartment
was stamped"
You've said that already
ooh, well, this is the rest About
the dull walls We're nailed the artists
many sketches--bgight 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 that he had
come to The end OF his slender re.
sources, the stern question had to be
faced Our hero, In his terrible des-
pondency, decided that he was fail.
ure-thar he must 20 back to the
hated task which his parents, and III.
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 a year he
had had his own way, continued Kit
ty. He had tried to snow the world
thar he was an artist, not d CLERK Tie
had. in all, sold three pictures and
this. with the small moneys tai 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"
4 forgot. Bread and water. meant
But, seriously, Reggie ! want you t0
understand that the poor boy had had
a terrible struggle. and that just nov
he was right down Faint hungry
utterly alone: sitting misegab'r b the
window of his little room III the cold
darkness. A failure-that what he
thought himself A failure-a taiHg
men either laugh ar or else despise
| fancy | can understand, a little how
he felt There We're his pictures about
rfie walls, those that he liked best
Others that he had fancied We're more
marketable were in the weather worn
portfolio which he had put down upon
the table on entering The house was
empty; he knew tnat the people hal
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 10 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
moved restlessly Just 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 DOlt hpIlSnt, was cntid-the
child Of the house She had evident
~ been there a long housekeeping in
the dark The artist steadied himself
10 light the lamp Then one could see
the stripped walls. Even the small
dignity of his sacrifice was to be ia
ken from him He made a movement
of weak anger against the child
whose keen, precocious glance had
taken il 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 il to me. she
cried. piteously You don't want It,
Give EN- all 10 me love them--I
love them They're all got Her
words ended in q sob and the artist
stood and listened shiveringly to her
c't.Ing And he was ashamed
81 e dear raconteur paused; and
the freight trembled over her pretty
face
"Well9" I asked. softly.
SO. Of course he tried again And