The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-05-22
THE EVENING STORY
The Dream Child
BY A. H. Gunter.)

strangely cross-eyed,. her hair had
iallen about her shoulders, and her
nacR was aching. David's letter lay
queer for David was ill at an eut-of-
| town san1tarium, and a girl is sup
posed to take some interest in her
RANGES health. But Alice believed in
art for arts sake, and David could
wait. Tomorrow the entries would
begin for the Worton art exhibit and
she must put the finishing touches to
her picture.
The room was bare and ugly since
art for arts sake is not always prof
liable, but now that the huge canvas
was there, to enter was like coming
| from the filth and din of the streets
| into still midsummer woods into
| haunted forest. Beneath a moss-hung
| oak, knee-deep in. a tangle of brack-
en- and fern, stood a little girl with
wide eyes and expectant face. She |
was looking for the fairies, that child, |
| and she would surely find them for
she knew that fairies really lived You |
| felt that they would peep out at her |
the moment your back was turned.
Henry Blaine, the portrait painter, |
| tried to catch them at it by turning
away ever so careIessly and then |
whirling suddenly back. They were
not to be tricked by a grownup like |
that; they whisked out of sight in a |
second, but Blaine declared that he |
could see the grasses culver. He shook |
his finger at the little dream child ct |
| caught them, didn't 1 90 he asked, but |
she would not tell on the fairies, not |
she.
Every student in the building
praised it, and they were frank and |
unsparing critics. Even Billy Goldsby |
held his glib tongue for fully five |
minutes when he saw the picture. |
BILLY had been raised on the streets
OF New York, and he had never had |
childhood, nor wanted one, but for
five minutes he felt with vague re-
sentiment, that, as he himself put it,
he had been done out of something"
Goldsby represented a large adver-
Using firm, and he was always hang
ing around the studios in search of
novelties. Being entirely common
place himself. he had wonderful
faculty for choosing pictures that
would appeal to the average person,
and though he could not have explain
ed that in this painting Alice had en-
shared the universal heart of child
hood, he did know that the Dream
Child would attract attention any
where.
"Say, Miss Wade" he announced,
approvingly, "the kids a regular hold
UP. The blind man couldn't pass her
without looking back. I'll give you
$500 down for the picture.
.Alice continued to slap on the paint
with loving strokes. "SeH the Dream
Child? ?" she repeated in horror. 'Why,
I wouldn't sell her for anything in the
world. She's my life, my heart, my
SOUL
down and surveyed her picture con-
tentedly. It was good work, and she
knew it, and hoped that 1t would take
the Daneleigh medal. That high goal
of artistic ambitions was awarded
every five years, and Alice had set her
heart on winning it. She had been
savagely selfish for her art. she knew,
had sacrificed everything to it and at j
last it seemed about to reward her.
David Arden was one of the things
that she had sacrificed, and now she
1t 4
cheerful throughout, for sickness could
not cloud David's brave spirit, but to- !
ward the end there was a paragraph
that startled her. 81 am getting well
know whether I can stay. This place
eats up money like taxicab. But /;
don't worry, little girl, for I'll soon be !
on my feet
Alice read that paragraph over and
over again, with growing anxiety.
David had been successful illustrator, I
and it had not occurred to her that G
he could be in want, yet the long ILL {
of money. If he was improving, of
course David must say where he was,
but when she. tried to think where the
money was to come from, Alice grew :
panicky. Her own resources had
dwindIed most painfully, while she 5
was working on the Dream Child She t
to pawn or sell, but it was practically
bare. There was nothing of any value e
in it, except the picture of the little b
girl-tf1e Dream Child. Goldsby had
said that he would give her $500 for i
the Dream Child.
Alice covered her face with her
hands and tried to fight off that hor- 2
rible thought. She could not, would :
not sell the Dream child. It would be a
more than the ruin of her ambitions :
It would be like selling part of her i,
own soul. She had planned the pic n
ture in her early girlhood; it was n
n the long long fhnu0ht@ Of n
youth, embodied the sweetest mem S
Dries of her childhood. And all the
time she realized with sickening clear y
ness that there was no other way to q
get the money.
Very slowly and miserably she put =.
on her coat. If she delayed Colds q
by might change his mind. With +,
face averted, for she could not meet S
the innocent eyes of the Dream Child a
she walked over to the canvas, and &
took it. from the easel. Soberly, az
If it were a sacrament, she laid one
kiss on the little girls soft hair, then
hurried over to Go1dsby's office. A
few minutes later she stumbled out,
with blinded eyes, and $500 IN o.
her pocket.
David. would not take the money CT
from her. she knew, but he had a,
queer old cousin, Baxter Arden, who ?
worked for meager pittance in a a,
downtown Office. Alice had always
liked this shy. crumped little man, fc
and she was sure that. she could per-
suade him to send the money TO u.
David in his name. She would tell dt
1in it was a loan, which David would
1ot let her repay. W
At Bakers lodging, however, she m
vas disappointed. Mr.. Arden was out
If town and the landiady did not know W
when he would return. There was X
nothing to do but wait, so Alice spent
.hree miserable days with Goldsbys y
check burning in her purse like blood '"
Tho, 7nf haov- he ON Tlf1.