Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1910-03-30
The Argus Daily Short Story
On the Other Side of the WaBy Virginia Leila Wentz
Copyrighted.

ticking of the watch in his pocket was
distinctly audible. He seemed hover
ing on the edge of a confidence, then:
81 had once hoped to do something in
the world Of art myself, but the need
of immediate financial returns made
it impossible
There was actually a note of senti-
ment in Imbrie's deep voice. Why,
she had supposed him to be as devoid
of sentiment and emotion as the gran
lite powders of his native state.
''In the last three years. he con-
tinued. "how many famous pictures
have been exhibited in those same gal
leries we were speaking Of? On only
the other side of the wall, where they
have hung, perhaps some little woman
has been welding brush and pencil,
working. watching, waiting till she,
too, shall come to her own. A little
money-comparative very little;
few friends-two, or even one-and the
way would have been easier. shorter
and surer.''
To Miss Hargraves' chagrin the con-
fidential tone vanished almost as quick
~ as it came. DR.. Imbrie extended his
NOOu dllCiuOOHs MISS
graves, and remember that you shall
try to get out of yourself and your ac-
customed environments is my only
prescription"
After her physician had gone Miss
Hargraves ordered her brougham
again and dressed for a later after
noon drive. mo, my dear" she said
in answer to q slight remonstrance
from Miss Brown; ''he said needed
plenty Of oxygen
Presently she babe the coachman
drive to her florists. Selecting dozens
of exquisite yellow roses-all he had
in his place-she asked for satin ribbon
to match the petals This she tied.
with nice deliberation, in a knot pc
culiarly of her own devising. Hand
ing the florist her card, she gave him
DIR. Imbrie's address.
The next day Miss Hargraves stop
ped in the galleries again to have
collection, q translucent, delicate land
scape Of Corot's. Slowly she made her
way about the three small rooms, NOV
ing with the throng, which talked loud
and learnedly the patois of art
ION the other side OF the WALTON
the other side of the walI'- Some
how, as she watched the tiny scarlet
cap of the shepherd lad leaning
against the tree trunk, that phrase of
Imbrie's flashed across her. And the
little woman, watching, working. wait
ing there-who knew? Perhaps, after
all, it might not be entirely a hypo-
thetical case? Certainly, in speaking
of it, there had come into Imbrie's
voice a quality hitherto unsupported.
And If by any possibility she, Harriet
Hargraves, might aid this struggling
worker, who could tell how it might
ingratiate her with-well, how it might
serve her purpose? The whim held
her.
When the janitor Of the adjoining
building, whose first floor was let to a
tailor and the second to a milliner, in
formed Miss Hargraves that there was
that there actually was-an artist or
something on the top floor, that lady
smiled at her own Sherlock Holmes
work.
"Yes'm," in response to low pitch
ed question, you're likely to lind her
at home; she's Almost always workin'.
Anyhow, you'll be sure TO find her
mother, who's an invalid and never
goes out"
Il was the mother, indeed, who
opened the door and ushered her Wis
itor into the tiny front studio.
The girl stood before an easel work
ing rapidly. a ragged. picturesque
street urchin of the Latin race posing
as her model. She was absorbed in
her work. and it was more than good.