Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1909-11-24

the grOcerman Sharply.
Old Tim closed his door. "And me
costing her money every day." he com
plained, every day, and doing nothing
hut chores. Yes, and am liable to
get sick at any time. any day, and eat
ing every day"
His eyes roved the room and fas-
tened on all the ragged nail holes and
grease spots. Used not to be that
way when / first came-carriages and
dinners at the hotels. But that doesn't
do any good now"
Suddenly, with quick determination,
he arose and placed the ink bottle on
the table before him and dipped the
rusted pen. Slowly and with lowered
head he wrote the note:
Mrs. Simonds-It costs a lot to keep me.
and It won't cost much to bury me. II
isn't the poIlyWumps, but fate. Give Dot
tie the Indian purse. If you ever hear
from my brother-I think he is out west
give him the ring. You can set II OF my
finger. You need not write anything on
the headstone.
Folding the note. he weighted it with
the ink bottle. Then from the bottom
of his scaled bureau he drew out the
rubber hose and attached it to the gas
let. Locking the door. he turned TO
the window and was drawing ii down
when he looked across the court to the
window of his unknown friend. There
in a glare of light sat the white haired
friend waiting.
Old Tim had almost forgotten him
his friend with whom he had never
spoken. but who had so many times
smiled across at him and nodded his
head in appreciation.
Old Tim gathered up his violin. as
he had done every evening. and clamp
ed it under his chin AS the SOFT
plaintive tones OF Annie Laurie"
welled out the old white haired man
arose and turned down his light to
glow. He always turned his gas TO
glimmer when Old Tim played Annie
Laurie" 1t was his dream hour, when
he lived again the victories of youth.
AS Old Tim played the old white
haired man dropped his head against
the window casing and lost himself
in reverie. When Old Tim finished
the man across the air shaft slowly
nodded.
He'll miss me. anyway. even II the
world doesn't" said Old Tim musing
ly. Its the last time; it's the last
time. 1 hope they will tell him so that
he can come. 1 believe I'll play once
more"
Again the plaintive strains burst out,
and when Old Tim had finished the
old man of the gray locks looked
across and nodded again. He would
never grow tired.
crTTIpa6 onh
turned away. He took up his pen and
added postscript:
Will you please give the old white haired
man my violin-if you don't have TO sell
it?
Then he fitted the rubber mask to
his face and fumbled for the gas jet.
A stone clicked against his window.
He paused, and then another pebble
raped the pane. Jerking of the mask,
he threw up the window. He knew
that it was Dottie's signal.
Something for you. Jimmie" called
out Dottie-"something nice-I know
1t is-a letter in typewritingr'
Old Tim hurried down the stairs.
and in the kitchen. with Dottie at his
side. he tore open the envelope.
tits from McCord & Prewett," he
cried joyfully. MY old job back as
night watchman-tomorrow Isn't that
nice?"
Old Tim hurried up to his room.
stumbling and grabbing at the rail,
and turned on his gas TO a full daring
blaze. 1t was the first time in many
months that the fame had been sc
wide and joyful.
A stone snapped against the win
dow. and he thrust out his head.
what is it. Dottie, little girl?'
please. Jimmie, and the nice old
man with the white hair wants to
know if you will play 'Goodby. My
Lover. Goodby.'"
Tim took up his violin. put some
rosin on the bow and. drawing It
across the strings several times, began
to play the air he had been asked to
play. Dottie listened for awhile with
her eyes fixed on him, then she began
to dance. Tim also began to pirouette,
and the two danced about. Tim con.
irving to make the music to which
they danced. And the longer they
danced the livelier they danced and
the livelier the music to which they
danced. Then. when they were tired,
they rested. Tim put up his violin
and said:
"Dottie. that's the best dance / ever
had in my life"
If we cannot live so as TO be happy