Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-01-14

her. She would save her money and occa-
sionally 90 to hear him sing from the top
most gallery. Which would be the less sor-
row, never to see or hear him again, to cut
at once the thread OF the past, or to still
the unceasing pain at her heart by some
such way Of acknowledged weakness?
The old fashioned clock on the mantel-
piece, family heirloom, which had licked
away the hours OF happy childhood, OF ire
sponsible youth, now marked with the same
metallic indifference the saddest moments OF
her life. 1t was eleven. She slowly uncolled
herself and stood erect. She must think of
her health, the health OF the breadwinner,
which stands always menace to indulgence
in unrestrained grief. There was tomor-
row coming an ugly tomorrow, hard work
and an eventide devoid of light. And it was
not only tomorrow that she had to face,
but a second and third. She closed her
eyes. How they crowded upon her in her
helplessness, those foes, the tomorrows,
which she must meet and fight and for
get, until she finally succumbed to their
insistence!
FROM the lower hall the telephone bell
L rang, its insistence bringing her back to
the present How determined that instru-
ment could be! 1t seemed to say, u know
you're in! l know you're in!' She Won
dered who was wanted at that hour. There
was silence, followed by shutting feet and a
rap at her own door. She stood paralyzed.
If it should be- What fool she was! In
the aperture of the entrance peered the land
her down the fights that seemed inter
minably long. The only telephone messages
she ever received were from mothers an
nouncing the sickness of pupil, afflicted
suddenly with the nine o'clock headache.
Could it be one of these? 1t must be: but
what an hour to announce the news! Would
an impatient Central cut her off before she
got there? Could it What fool to think
it might be
But it was, and as the rich, golden voice
came over the wire it seemed to her as if he
were standing in the cherries hall by her
side. Each syllable was SO distinct, and
even the ana cheyie' was as caressing as
ever, despite the distance and the medium
of unsympathetic metal.
at was great triumph, ma cherie. Moth
ing like it in my career. l had twenty cur
tain calls after the aria De miei bollenti
SPIRIT The voice they say is
better than ever. 1t did not play me false
once, not once. You forgive me for leaving
you so abruptly? You understood? l was
crazy. l did not come to myself until was
in the office, then l remembered; but it was
too late, too late even to send you note.
But of course you understood, ma ehfrie:
you always understand
She tried to speak, but she could not
tried to say something congratulatory, words
that would convince him she had no feeling
of personal disappointment; but in spite OF
her efforts the spirit failed and only dry
sob went over the wire.
She caught an answering gasp. ooh, l
am the brute; but listen, Dear how much
more intimate the Anglo-Saxon syllable
sounded-"we are to have the fete just the
same. 1t was only delayed. Tomorrow at
twelve call for you in coach. Oh, yes.
l know about the pupils she had said
nothing, -"but don't you understand what
/ am
Some teasing sylables broke into the
monologue. "Come away, old boy: she
needs her beauty Sleep" then, apparently,
the crowd of good humored singers passed
along.
"Don't you understand? There is to be
no more school, and you are to wear the
pretty gray dress and the blue ribbon in
your hair,-I saw them, if was crazy and
brute,-and we are to be married right
away. | said married, because cannot wait