The Montgomery advertiser., 1906-12-30

 or unmaks artistes. But for how long
 Already he had tasted the bitter frui of professional knowledge. When hi Ihigh-priced instructor urged him on ts I extra lessons. he could close his cyl and recall the experiences which sing CTS, fresh from Europe had detailed experiences fraught with great strug gle and small reward, of American mer who had studied for years only to b' set aside by some gamin of the Italian streets born with the golden light O his native land in his voicei of girli lwho had starved themselves or beg gared their families only to find them. selves charged for the privilege of sing | ing in a creditable company.
 But in spite of this new view of hf' I profession, he yielded to the allure ments of the moment. It was hard now to keep the balance between his two accounts. for while his private engage ments paid him better than ever, there were certain little expenses that never found their way into the statement re- ce.ved by the secretary of owego's | women's Club. With trifles like vio. | let's, hansoms and tea at Sherry's, the I Owego sponsors had nothing to do.s | Sometimes when he was buynig the violets, he caught himself wondering | how his mother would enjoy box of l the flowers; and then he would look al | the stately American beauty roses and | think of the girl across the court whom he no longer saw because he slept un- | til the very moment when he must leave the house. II rather annoyed him that his mother and the girl seemed to stand side by aide at moments when | he was doing rather foolish or extrava- gant things. or course, the girl would Ia. S~ a.N. oV1aSs. when sine made her hit as he had.
 And thus stood matters when New Years Eve fell upon New York, night of merry carnival among those with much money a night akin to riot with those who had little and used 1t lily. Herman Grant had been Invited to wei come the New Year at the studio of man whose genius built homes of art by day and palaces of exotic pleasures by night. Herman sat on the, edge Of polite Bohemia with girl who was to appear the next week In grand opera. Watching the scene with breeding eyes she sat, her hands clasped around her crossed knees.
 And those are they who make us For unmake us." she said bitterly.
 Herman never knew just how it hap pened, but as they sat, he read the girls heart. Little by little the story came to him, and looking at her cling ing velvet robe, her gleaming jewels, her snow whites ouivering arms he shivered.
 And what matters it." she finished abruptly, though a woman see her name in big type if she lose body and soul?"
 Herman made no reply. He, too. sat staring moodily at the picture beyond the darnask draperies. A pretty girl with the dew of her country lanes still in her eyes, tried to rise. and then sat down with a silly little laugh. When she opened her eyes again Herman realized. oddly, that the dew had dried up. J
 Have you heard that Terry Wilson and his wife are on speaking terms againr' cackled the voice of thin, sharp-featuro old beau who was pass ing them with a. willowy girl. whose hair burned like bronze aureole around her carefully, roughed face.
 Don't tell How horribly plebetan Of them! she laughed.
 Herman started. What if those words had dropped from the lips of the girl with the voice; If the demurely parted brown hair should suddenly take on a bronze tinge? He rose. So did the girl in the clinging velvet ropes. : iN
 Ready to go? So am Can drop you anywhere on my way homer
 ';No. thanks. I'll see y,ou to your ear rIago and then I guess I'll walk home. I'd like to hear the Trinity Chimes, but they say there is such a din-"
 ''Yes, there's very little of the real and true left inN this town" said the girl quietly as they crossed the room. Herman did not ansyer. Mechanically he tucked her into her cab Mechani- cally he raised his hat and turned away. She looked at him for few seconds
 'I don't believe 1t Is too late" she murmured, chokingly, and then in her clear, penetrating soprano she called to the driver:
 ITO the hotel"
 It was 10 o'clock the next morning when a window across the court was raised and the rich. mellow voice sang:
 "The sweetest flower that grows
 give you as we part"
 It was the first song she had sung for him, his mothers song. He slipped on his dressing robe and stole to the window, drawing aide the curtains in just a mere slit The brown head was bent over a bowl of violets. The slen- der white fingers were picking out the dead blooms ana safessing the fresher ones,
 Soon she will have so many violets that she won't sort them over" thought Herman. bitterly. ''VioIets, roses, dia- monds and silks-and a chance to sing a few weeks in the year for whatever a manager is willing to pay her-thats the reward of years of hard work. But you couldn't make her believe 1t. She Is just like the rest"
 You think 1t but a rose:
 "Ah, me, 1t Is my heart"
 The compellingly tender voice trailed off into silence, as the singer disap- peared behind the sash curtains of barred muslin. New Years day had dawned in almost springlike gentleness, and the windows all around the court were open.
 Herman flung himself back on the bed. New Years day! Day of reckon ing, or resolutions and freshly turned leaves. How should he turn his? The odor of violets came across the court but the memory of the moody voice at his shoulder the night before seemed to end straight through the pathway of violet perfume. He saw his talent, ex- aggerated by the zeal of the owego Women's Club. suddenly stand forth