The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1911-12-07

fully of the days of movement and
change that were to follow. the song
in his heart shaped itself In words
upon his lips.
I'm Paddy Whack
From Ballyhack,
Not long ago turned soldier-O
At grand attack,
Or storm or sack,
None than 1 will prove bolder-O!"
His voice was by way of being a
tenor of tolerable quality and volume,
but Misunderstanding wonderful. 1t
was just the way he trolled out the
rollicking stanza that rendered it in
fictitious, irresistible. For as he
paused the voice Of the woman that
had reminded him Of the song capped
the verse neatly.
"An' whin we get the route
Wild a shout.
How they pout!
Wild a ready right-about
Goes the bould solder-boy!'
O'Rourke caught his breath, star
tied, stunned. 1T can't be-" he
whispered. For If at first her voice,
subdued in distance, had stirred his
memory with a touch as vague and
thrilling as the caress of woman's
hand In darkness, now that he heard
the full strength of that soprano, bell
clear and spirited, he was sure he
knew the singer. He told himself that
there could be no two women in the
world with voices just like that; not
another than her he knew could have
rendered the words with 50 true Z
spirit, so rare a brogue-tinged as
that had been with the faintest.
quaintest exotic infection imagin-
able.
But she had stopped with the
verse half sung. His pulses quicken
ing, O'Rourke leaned forth from the
window and carried 1t on:
20. tits thin the ladies fair
In despair
Tear their hair!
But-''Tis divvle bit I care!'
Cries the bould soldier-boy!"
There fell a pause. He listened
with his heart In his mouth, but heard
nothing. And 1t seemed impossible to
surmise whence, from which one of all
the rooms with windows opening upon
that side Of the hotel, had come the
voice of the woman. She might as
we'll have been above as below him,
or on either side: he could not guess.
But he was determined.
Now there was beneath his window
a balcony with floor of wood and
rail of iron-f1ligree-a long balcony,
extending from one corner Of the no.
tel to the other. At intervals it was
splashed with light from the windows
of chambers still occupied by guests
belated or busy, like himself, with the
task of dressing for the evening. The
window to his left was alight; that
on his right, dark. With half his body
on the balcony, his legs dangling with
in the room, O'Rourke watched the
opening on his left with jealous,
breathless expectancy. Not a sound
came therefrom. He hesitated.
IF that weren't her room, Id hear
somebody moving about" he reasoned.
"'Tis frightened she is-not suspect
in tits me- But how do l know
it's herself? Faith! could me
ears deceive me?"
With that he took heart Of hope and
broke manfully into the chorus, sing
ing directly to the lighted window,
singing the first line with ardor and
singing persuasively, pleadingly,, anx-
iously, insistently.
''For the world is all befo-ore us"
he sang and then paused. He heard
no echo. And again he essayed, with
that In his tone to melt a heart of
ice:
'.For the world is all befo-ore US"
And now he triumphed and was
lifted out Of himself with sheer de.
light; for from the adjoining room
came the next line:
"And landladies ado-ore us"
Unable to contain himself, he
chimed in, and In duet they sang 1t
out to the rousing finale:
'"They meier rayfuse. to sco-ore Us,
But chalk US up Wild Joy
We taste her tap, we tear her CAP
20, that's the chap
For me- cries She
'Whfrooi
Isn't he the darlint. the beuld soldier.
boyv" 90 a.ge
Az the last note rang out and died.
the next window was darksned; the,
woman had switched loR The ughta;