The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932, 1907-02-08

fell from above-a mans voice, deer
and musical, leaping up and down the
scale, a cheerful, companionable tor
rent of melody that brought a respon
sive smile to her face.
Next day she had learned his name
Seeking letters from the pile in the
lower hall, she had found a colorman's
catalogue addressed to John Tim
son, Esq" She had smiled at the
name; Timson was SO unusual and
quaint and-funny! John she liked;
her fathers name had been John. All
the morning, as she worked at her
copper bowls and candlesticks, she
strove to picture a personality be-
fitting the nam of John Timson.
A week later she saw him.
After that they, bowed, and then
spoke. Meetings became frequent.
Aside from the little weakened
dealer in old worries and curl
osities on the first floor, they were
the only occupants of the house
who made it their home. That served
as a bond of sympathy, and they soon
discovered others. They were both
orphans, and both without near rela'
tives; they were both struggling for
recognition-he as a painter OF land
scapes in oils, she as a worker in
metals. And then there were minor
sympathies born of similar tastes and
io- ,rIfaI - RI foht in tho hrQf
year of their friendship.
1t became his custom to drop into
her room for a moment on his way
up and down stairs, and then In the
evenings for long, enjoyable talks,
while he sat in her one easy-chair
and smoked and she worked away at
an order or did her mending. Once a
week he descended tremendously,
Immediately clean, but diffuslng a
strong odor of paint, and took lunch
with her, gravely marveling ~ the
display and pretended alarm her
recklessness.
Once he had returned her hospital.
ity-he had sold a small canyas-and
they had dined sumptuously at one
end of the paint-stained table on lob
ster outlets and French peas and as
paragus, sent in chilled, but appetiz-
ing, from the cafe across the square.
And he had made marvellous coffee
in an old copper kettle, and had pro-
duced a bottle of olives, which, he sol
emily declared, had been two years
awaiting the occasion.
Usually he called for her at the
institute in Brooklyn-she still at
tended an evening class three times a
week-and brought her home.
Once they had walked back across
the bridge on a brisk winter night,
the white stars above them, the pur-
pie lamps advancing and meeting
them along their path, and the lemon
and red and green lanterns twink
ling up from boats and p~ier-heads.
That night she had heard his story.
He had told her of a boyhood spent
in a little town in western Missouri,
Of his first dim dissatisfaction with
his lot and his growing hatred for
toll in his fathers squalid general
mother he had never known-he had
gone to st. Louis, where he had
by day and studied art by
light, until, with 81, 900 saved, he had
come to New York and entered the
eague. He had spent three years
here, and then had buried himself
n the Jersey woods, living like a her ,
nit, In a hut of his oWn building, and I
from dawn to dusk, fair days ,
md foul.
"And now" he had ended, they're
'eginning to know me. I've sold q T
ew canvases, mostly through Ruy-
er. Ruyter believes in me. The y
hing I'm working on now is for the =
cademy. It's going to take a year;
ut it's good, it's the best l have In r
It's going to be hung" :
"Oh, I do so hope SOL" she had said, a
arnestly. :.
I've never doubted It," he had an a
wered, simply. Its a big stake. g
ut-Tm going to win!" .
And so that first year had passed. b
nd the second of their friendship
as three months old. ..
One afternoon-the morrow was the
lst day for receiving canvases at the !,
cademy-he entered her room, and a
ank silently into his accustomed ~
hair. She looked up questioningly r.
om the silver buckle on which she
as working. i,
Finished" he said, gloomily. d,
Does 1t go to-day"
Tomorrow; 1t isn't quite dry vet, q,
suppose | ought to be glad, but" W
} smiled forlornly-"I only feel ratb.
lonesome" He filed and lighted
s pipe. DO you care to see 1t r.
:.
"Oh, yes she answered, eagerly. ht
Upstairs he drew aside the yellow. ~,
h cloth, and laid bare the canvas on
hich he had toiled for almost a wear So
was large, six feet by four. and an
idoubtedly an ambitious effort for
nat might be called a first picture.
It the result was SO splendid that ~
e artists faith In it's success Seemed co