Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-09-17

sense rnyme6, 50 6ne gdtnereu tneIn III with her washing and hurried down. stairs.
 "Sillier," was her only comment when she read them in the privacy of her room. Then, the loss of her hand kerchief dawning suddenly upon her, she pronounced "P. L." not only bold, bad poet, but a sneak thief, and for days summed the roof religiously.
 Finally, however, curiosity got the better of her, and she ventured to go up just once more and see what would happen. The prospect wasn't promis- ing. The only person in sight was trained nurse hanging out blankets.
 T hope no one is very ill., remarked Sylvia. ..
 Well, he's pretty sick" replied the nurse. "He took cold staying up here on the roof too long after getting over the grip. We're fearful of pneumonia"
 Sylvia's heart thumped violently.
 "I'm so sorry," she said sympathetic ally. "Is he delirious?'
 The nurse looked at her curiously. "No, not exactly. He talks in his sleep sometimes. Are you a friend of MT. Laurison's?"
 IT know him slightly" stammered Sylvia. Then, after a moment, she added timidly, "Is Mir. Laurison con scious?'
 "Oh, yes; he's conscious"
 "Then please give him this," begged Sylvia, extracting little crumpled pa- per from a mysterious hiding place. Don't let him read it till he's better. He'll know who sent it." Then Sylvia made one of her characteristically dra- matic exits.
 The days that followed stretched sol emnly on into weeks. Occasionally Syl- via inquired of the elevator boy how Mir. Laurison was getting on. It seem- ed an eternity before his lugubrious "About the same, miss," changed to the cheerful "They say he's much bet ter, miss.''
 No more counselings now with Dame Grundy as to the propriety of trips to the roof. Sylvia went every day-twice a day. She knew that some time she would find him there. When at length she did she almost ran to him for joy, but remembered suddenly that they had met only once before. So she call ed to him from the distance.
 "How do you do, MT. Laurison"
 Paul started up in his steamer chair and gazed at her in glad surprise.
 "Why, how do you do again?' he called cheerily. Wont you come over and shake hands?'
 Sylvia came toward him quickly and extended her little white hand.
 q suppose this Is Miss S. R. I have the pleasure of greeting" said Paul, with cordial informality.
 "Yes-Sylvia Randall" she answered. q like the queens name,' Paul con- mented. "and wish could ask her to stay awhile, but have no throne to offer her"
 Without further ceremony Sylvia sat down on the roof and declared herself comfortable. ..
 .I want to thank you, Miss Sylvia" began Paul slowly. flor your message while I was i'll. It did me a world Of good"
 Sylvia looked up at him to see If he was making fun of her, but Paul lay back against the cushions, his eyes ap- narently closed. From beneath those closed lids, however, he was reveling in the glory of Sylvia's hair and in the color that came and went in her cheeks.
 "I wrote it." explained Sylvia hum- bly,, "before knew you were III and before I found out that you are real author"
 And how did you discover that?" in- quired Paul.
 "In a magazine" answered. Sylvia tersely. Tt was good story-much better than your rhymes"
 "Well. you see, writing poetry isn't exactly in my line," said Paul, laugh ing. T never did 1t till I met you. But like 1t just the same. My two favorite lines are these:
 ''P. l.. was a poet; P. L. was a thief; P. L. came to my house and stole a hand kerchief" Sylvia hung her head, whether from modesty or amusement Paul couldn't tell.
 "The paper they were written on was suspiciously watermarked," he ob- served. You didn't really cry. did youT'
 Rain vets things" answered Sylvia laconicaIly. Besides, what good would 1t have done to cry? You had my handkerchief"
 After this suspicious beginning the chimney postoffice was a wonderfully busy institution, and the old roof woke up all of a sudden to its many roman tic possibilities.
 its truly a garden, isn't it;" whls- pered Sylvia one night, stealing about in the moonlight with Paul beside her.
 "The queens garden" answered Paul, and Sylvia didn't dispute him. Then after a minute Of silence De added: "Hark! hear some one try Ing to get over the garden wall"
 "Oh, dear, By the fire eseapeT gasped Sylvia. Paul shook his head
 "LIsten- he urged. You can hear bis wings"
 ~oh." laughed Sylvia shyly, 'I know nowr'
 Shall we help him overr asked Paul. drawing Sylvia gently to him.
 He doesn't seem 90 need much i help.- murmured Sylvia so softly that