The Lee County journal. (Leesburg, Ga.) 1904-19??, 1908-08-28


manded, and send for a piano-tuner
at once. 4 think he liked to hear her
play and if he heard some of their
old favorites"
i expect you know them, Miss"
Mary suggested, with smile.
Yes" Miss Johnson said, Yes. I'll
tell You more some day, Mary; not
now. Take the flowers, and don't
ask questions, there's good girl
| So Mary took roses with every
thing that she carried to the hemit
for several days, and Miss johnson
played the piano, like a professions
al Mary said--sweet, ripping music
that reminded Mary Of Sunday-school
excursions to woods and the seaside.
and Of blue skies and fresh breezes
and open air; solemn music that re-
minded Mary of visits to Cathedrals,
and the orchestral concerts that MP.
Jones, who had an ear for music, took
her to sometimes. But the flowers
remained outside the hermit's door,
and he gave no sign that he noticed
the music.
ITS no use, Miss" Mary pro-
nounced. He's hardened his heart,
like Moses"
Il think it was Pharaoh" Miss
Johnson corrected. Il am Moses. We
will try a fresh plague. Leave his
outer door open when you take away
the dinner things, and my doors aiar,
am going to sing. If that doesn't
have any effect, II don't know
what shall do"
Her voice trembled little.
If you sing as we'll as you play,
Miss" said Mary; ut ought to-"
Obj said Miss Johnson. my
playing's nothing. I'm no pianist.
only strum. sing better than that,
butt wish sang thousand times
| better"
In the evening she sang, and, at
the first note, Mary, who was pre-
tending to be busy at the linen-press
on the landing, concluded that she
was queen of the opera stage. She
had full, clear contralto voice and
it had that wonderful gift of touch
ing people that belongs to one voice
out of hundred, and that no words
can define.A And this was the song
that she sang:
ROSES.
Oh, roses, roses, roses!
My lover made me wear
Red roses at my bosom,
Red roses in nv hair.
To match dream that still he
speaks
The roses blushing on my cheeks.
AS the song began Mary saw the
inner door of 3B open slightly; and
by the end of the first verse the
opening had grown to a foot, and she
clasped her hands excitedly.
Oh, roses, roses, roses!
He's gone! and now I wear
White roses at my bosom,
White roses in my hair.
To match-it is my sorrow speaks
The white, white roses on my cheeks.
The door was wide open now; and
man, indistinct in the gloom, came
out and took the roses silently from
the glass in which they had stood ne
elected all day. He raised them
she thought to his lips.
Oh, roses, roses, roses!
He will not turn from you!
Go steal upon him softly,
AS | no more may do.
Till ev'ry mem'ry wakes and speaks
OF roses pleading in my cheeks.
"And then" Mary told Mr.. Jones,
when he called for orders the next
morning, "he rushed across the land
ing like fire-engine; and l heard
him say 'Kathie!' and / heard her
say, Arthur, and the music-stool fell
over; and shut the door on them;
and ran upstairs and cried. |
couldn't help thinking what it would
feel like if you and had quarreled,
and don't suppose you'd care-oh,
John! Someone will see Yes.
go" Now let me go. =" l always
knew she was somebody, and many
time I've told you so. Kathleen
Besley. That's who she is and I'VE
often seen her name in the papers,
singing at bazaars and so on; and
plenty of money Of her own; and so
has he. if you come to that More
than we have. old man. You
really mustn't, John. I'm sure some
one will see us some day.
she was terrible flirt, she says,
though you wouldn't think it; but
it's always those quiet ones! And as
mischievous as a monkey as l can
believe; and always teasing him. And
he was very studious and serious,
and the most crochety and cantank-