The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1907-04-02
How Pietro
Paid His Debt.
By SABA B. CUSHMAN.
Copyright. 1907. by Mary McKeon.

brushes, backing and various imple-
ments into small box and singing
the same by a strap from his shoulder.
One watching Pietro's closing up
could determine the proceeds of the
days business. If he moved with alac-
rity, the jingling silver in his purse
promised well for the necessities of
life; if he moved reluctantly, pausing
now and then to see If perchance there
might yet be patron for him, the
purse was lamentably light and Pie
tro's supper must be likewise. Tonight
he knew that the persistent craving in
his stomach must go entirely unappeas-
ed, for there was no more than enough
silver to satisfy the voraciousness of
Isenberg, the money shark, of Water
street, into whose clutches the lad had
fallen and who found means of exact
ing his dues even though there was
no money left for food.
Jaw, no use kicking" remarked Pie
tro philosophically as he slowed away
his last brush: give seed worser luck
dan dis here. Anyhow mother amt
cold nor hungry"
His philosophy deserted him as the
poignant memory of the great soft eyes
Of his mother, wistful with longing for
the sunshine of her own land, returned
to him. His own eyes filed with I'M
wonted tears, shutting out for mo-
ment the sight of the stream of gay
humanity that thronged past on its
way to the opera. He did not see the
air and shabby coat who paused for an
instant beside him nor did he notice
the evident struggle that went on in
the young mans mind as, with a
glance at the dirty face Of the urchin
and another at the brilliantly lighted
entrance of the opera house, he hur-
ried on. He must be quick or there
would be left not even standing room,
which was all that he could afford to
pay for. At the ticket window a fat
old gentleman was wrangling over his
tickets.
The enforced delay gave the young
man time to think, and the face of the
street child, pathetic through all its
dirt, would not be banished. When the
old gentleman had relieved his mind
and turned away, the ticket seller
looked at Grayson expectantly; but,
with a muttered malediction at his
chicken heart, as he chose to term it,
Grayson turned away. Pietro was
trudging YEARLY down the street to-
ward that part of the city from which
the rich fee and where the poor and
the wicked find refuge. Revolving In
his mind the weary question of
finances, he did not heed the approach
ing footsteps until hand grasped him
unceremoniously and a voice asked
gruffly:
What were you crying for, kid?"
SAW, what yer givin' us, dude?
warn't cryin'"
'All right, but what's wrong? Bank
rupt?" with a quizzical glance at the
others stock in trade.
''Nope," replied Pietro. "Got my out
At left That's about all, though. Bush
ness is pretty dead now. Be better aft
err election"
Grayson laughed.
That's right l find 1t so myself.
What do you say to good hot steak
in hereY
They were passing a little restau-
rant, and the aroma of hot coffee and
frying meat Aoated out to them, re-
GraysOn that his evening
meal had been dispensed with to make
up the amount necessary for his admit
lance to the land of hearts desire and
causing the nostrils of his companion
to twitch like rabbits.
'Sure, but dis is bum joint. Come
to Maginty's. It's swell there"
They went to Maginty's, and over a
and potatoes Pietro became confiden-
tial and told Grayson the story of his
first to provide necessities
for his dying mother and then to es-
cape the clutches of the money lender,
from whom he had borrowed money
that his mother might have a burial fit
for human being
When Grayson, familiar with the
ways Of the willy money lenders, dis
covered that the amount had been re-
turned with triple interest, he took the
matter into his own hands, and the
money lender, looking at those same
strong clinched hands, admitted that
he had asked Pietro to call again only
that he might give him a receipt for
the full amount of his debt.
Loath to part with his amusing COM
panion, Grayson invited him to share
bis dingy lodgings for the night, and
Grayson's comrades significantly tap
ped their foreheads at this latest &C.
centricity of their friend, for, though
they were possessed of numerous &C.
centricities of their own, as men of
genius must ever be, surely even they
might deem 1t the hallmark of insanity
to take from the street ragged young
ster and give him a glimpse of better
things through the medium of a mode
Of life that to these young men of
mighty ambitions seemed drearily pow
erty stricken.
From the point of view Of the man
on the pile of straw. the shoddy mat
tress seems luxurious, while to the man
on the shoddy nothing seems worth
while but one of floss. Added to Gray
sons inexplicable treatment Of the
dago kid, they told the story of his hal
lucinations how in the still nights
he claimed to hear bursts of exquisite
melody such as only the great masters
of music might dream and, dreaming,
reproduce. Grayson was only q hum
bic student, and, try as he might, he
melodies that would give him no rest.
With his awakening the melodies were
stilled, and only their echoes, like the
half remembered taste of some child
ish delight, the name and substance,
color and form Of which we have long
forgotten, remained. He haunted the
opera and concerts, but he could never
hear them save in his dreams. Be
cause he dreamed these things and yet
could interpret them no better than his
average companion student they called
him daffy. Daffy Pietro thought of him
when in the wee small hours of the
night he awoke and heard those glori-
Gus sounds. His first quick glance
showed him that his hosts bed was
empty. His second showed him the
figure of the young man standing full
in the light of the moon, his violin in
his hands, his face slightly uplifted
and with transhguring look upon it
that would have made him pass almost
unrecognized among his best friends.
His eyes We're strange, staring, un-
earthly, and Pietro, encountering them,