The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1910-05-25


Holworthy frequently found him
self strolling by the house with the
bay window, beneath which was dis
played the neat sign, China Paint
ing" Between the muslin curtains
hung the cage of yellow canary, and
on the window sills potted purple
crocuses sat in CHEEKY array. Not
that Holworthy was interested in
canary birds or potted crocuses;
neither did china painting hold any
allurements for him. In fact, he
could not have explained what was
the lodestone that drew his footsteps
down this commonplace street of
abandoned residences, nor what the
attraction for him in the room be-
hind the bird cage and the crocuses.
The first floor was occupied by an up
holsterer, and the floors above had
been remodeled into small tene-
ments, grandly referred to as apart
ments" in the sign at the third story
window.
One afternoon without the slight
est forethought he entered the door
way and pressed the bell belonging
to the second story apartment. The
latch clicked spasmodically, and be-
fore Holworthy had quite come to
himself he was upstairs, face to face
with a sprightly-appearing elderly
lady, enveloped in a paint-bedaubed
apron, and who balanced plate care
fully upon the palm of one hand
Pardon me-er-do you fill or
ders for china painting?"
This was rare presence of mind on
the part of Holworthy, for he lived
at hotels and had as much use for
hand-painted china as he had for the
canary singing shrilly in the bay
window.
The sprightly lady lost no time in
assuring him that she did take orders
for all manner and kind of china
painting, and no doubt had visions
of furnishing forthwith breakfast,
dinner and tea set for this handsome,
well-dressed stranger.
The visitor glanced curiously about
the Uttered room. How changed 1t
was since he had last seen it. He
strolled to the window. The broad
window seats were still there, and
the panelled shutters with little glass
knobs, that folded back into inches in
the wall. In this very window, in
the soft spring twilight ten years ago,
he had asked her to be his wife, and
the lovely head had lain upon his
breast. Good heavens, how it all
came back to him. What a dream
It was, and how rudely shattered.
would you like to see some of
my work."
The cheerie voice of the china
painter broke upon his reverie.
She regarded his gloomy face in
tently as he turned abruptly and went
with her to curtained recess where
her dainty wares were spread. A
faint, fleeting perfume saluted his
nostrils. Instinctively he picked up
a piece of broken Japanese jar of
exquisite design and coloring. 1t was
that which held the sweet odor.
"This must have been a rose jar"
he said idly.
1T was. You may break, you
may shatter the vase if you will, but
the scent of the roses hangs over it
STILL she quoted prettily.
That is true. However complete
the wreck the scent of the roses
clings." He sighed heavily, SEEM
ingly forgetful of his companion.
"'Twas the scent of the roses that
brought me here" he added, alb
sently.
Her bright glance rested on his
youthful features and took in the
touches of silver in the thick black
hair at his temples.
Presently she broke gently into
his abstraction. "a lady left that
with me to be mended Such a sweet
woman, but so sad at times. She
FUSED to live here when it was one
family house before the street was so
run down. Sometimes she tells me
of the pranks she used to play in that
bay window when a little girl. On
April Fools day evening she used to
throw down packages tied to a string
and then twitch them soaring above
peoples heads when they tried to
pick them up"
An electric shock ran through Hol-
worthy, and he drank in every word.
"And did she tell you how the boy
who lived across the way sneaked
under the window one night and cut
away the package and tied the string
to the blind downstairs?"
"she told me that; do you know
herr"
Il did-when I was a boy" he add
ed. bitterly.