The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1909-02-20
DAILY SNORT sToRY
AN ART EXCHANGE
BY Stuart Ii. Stone.

tbtd1u DublhCoo ihCh " otobo ~ iAao
for hours in the hope of obtaining
something in the first 10 rows six
weeks ahead-had obstinately re-
fused to talk.
Finding the thing hopeless,
Philip Kirkwood showed his chair
back and stepped to the window
when a clear soprano caught and
held him with a foolish little
song:
II do not know the price of
wheat, nor how many mil
lion pounds the sun will
weigh;
I care not about the age of
Ann: I only dream Of
Lois in negligee."
"By George!" muttered young
Kirkwood. "a girl with a voice
fit for my stubborn Lady Analu-
cha singing song silly enough to
be truly popular"
He craned his neck far out the
window and almost bumped II
against the red-brown head of g
llady-for the windows were very
near together.
"Psrdon"-- stammered Mr.
Kirkwood.
"Pardon"-- stammered the
girl.
AS the young man drew back
red and frustrated, he saw thai
the girl shook with laughter. Their
inspiration struck him good anG
hard.
Talk about your popular
songs" he murmured. "Did yor
ever in your life!"
He pulled the table to the win
dow and wrote rapidly on the
first scraps of paper his hand
found. On corner of the table
the lady Analucia still sulked IL
ancient unapproachablene and
Kirkwood flipped her off upon the
floor. He was penciling, in per
fleet rhythm, in delicious senti
ment, in the quaintest humor, the
words of song-a song destined
POSSIBLY to be less popular thar
the red-headed girls doggerel
lditty, but song, far, far better
1t was about a saucy, red-hairet
lady and the cheer and the glet
she brought when she peeped from
her window in negligee. AS hi
wrote he looked out of the win
dow from time to time, and hi
noticed on each occasion that the
Igirl was watching him. She ap
ipeared to study him unconsciously
and she was performing some
faction with her hands, which hi
was unable to make out.
When he had written two stan
zas and chorus, Kirkwood step
ped to the piano. He had the
thing all clear in his mind, ant
the melody came spontaneously. L
was a catchy, engaging little air
and, as he played, he sang the
words in his good tenor voice
When he finished, he raced to the
window. The girl was still there
"Hey" called young Kirkwood
excitedly. whats your name?'
"Well'-said the girl, a BIZ
Embarrassed.
81 beg your pardon" he ex
lplained. 81 don't want to repor-
you for suspected embezzlement
or for not having a license tag or
your French poodle. The fact is
I've written a song about you
Good" interrupted the girl. 81
heard tits fine, and I'm much
obliged"
"And want your first name tc
go in. 1t ought to have two sylla.
bles," he suggested.
II
pling. "Annyce."
Kirkwood stepped back to jot
down the name; but the girl
thrust something out at him
Here" she said. "I've been u.s.
ing you to advantage ALSO"
Kirkwood found himself staring
into his own face. in the trap
pings of a Grecian wrestler in a
painting OF an ancient amphithe-
alter.
you never knew" suggested
the girl, that you were a perfect,
reincarnated Grecian athIete?"
well, no." stammered young
Kirkwood.
you're deal for the part"
continued the girl, land I'm glad
l moved here. I've been looking
for someone to complete that pic
ture for a month"
If / know the A B @ of music,
you've brought me a snug sum in
that song of mine," said Kirk
wood. I'm more pleased that
you've come than I can say"
1t was but a few months later,
with the royalties from "Annyce
at the Window" still pouring in
and the art world still talking of
the big price obtained for the pic
ture, "a Wrestler of Athens" that
the creators of song and picture
became one. Mr.. and Mrs. Philip
Kirkwood have an odd scrap of
paper framed and hung in their
living room. 1t is the three-line,
unfinished utterance of the Lady
Analucia, which drove the young
writer to window one day in
despair.