Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-06-08

Not so fast-let him finish!"
For Eric, with strange, contrary ideas
running through his puzzled brain, was al
most running toward the music room. In
the doorway he paused and looked. AT the
piano, surrounded by wildly singing crowd,
sat figure he recognized. 1t was Richard
Reilly, respondent in suit of clothes that
smacked of the Tenderloin, his red head
swaying back and forth in time to the waltz
meter Of the music, singing as he played, and
shouting, between repetitions of the refrain:
"Now, that's the -al-to-ge-t her-
NOW!'
Eric guessed it all in flash. The song
had reached their home town, Of course.
Someone had noticed the name of the author,
and Richard Reilly had claimed credit for it.
And here he was, basking in glory, such as
it was, that did not belong to him! He
would rush forward and denounce him as
an impostor
Wait! He could not do SO without ex-
posing his own hideous secret! No-let it go
as it was! Let Richard Reilly unashamed
where his head should be bowed, take credit
for it all! What he did carer Had he not
the real fame, the real glory, for having
achieved things that were something worth
while? Besides, she must not know.
She was beside him, watching with him.
Look" she whispered. "The horrible
creature! Glorying in such an atrocity as
that Oh, Eric, if he could only see the diff
ference If he only knew! He thinks we're
proud of him! Proud! When you are here!
You who have been such credit to our old
town with your noble achievements, your
never-neglected ideals! You, who have sue
ceeded just because you would not stoop to
such"
He pulled himself away from her and
staggered across the room. Her words
burned in his heart. He was liar, hypo-
critic, and she thought that he was all that
was noble and honest and high minded! And
she was blaming and ridiculing this poor oaf
at the piano-blaming him for the very fault
that he himself had done! All his better
nature revolted at the deception.
THE red-headed figure at the piano was
swaying, the fingers were raised to 60
once more. into the opening bars of the re-
frain, when two long, refined hands clutched
him by the collar, and he was dragged,
astounded into breathlessness, to the floor. A
long, 1.-THE figure leaped across his PROSTATE
form and took his place at the piano. A face
that looked like that of Chopin in ecstasy
was turned upon the astonished throng, and
its long, black name shook with excitement
as Eric's voice shouted:
"Now, come-altogether! NOW!'
Bang! his fingers struck the Keyboard and
the piano thrilled. He did not play it as
it was written, but with full, musicianly
chords, and his agile touch supplied added
notes that transformed the cheapness of the
thing somewhat, giving it tone and volume.
And to Mary Dart, leaning with one hand
on the piano, and gazing in blank astonish
ment into the singers face there seemed to
be something in the words that she had not
heard before. Eric concluded with Titanic
chord of melody and leaped from the piano,
striding toward the puzzled Richard Reilly,
who had risen to his feet and was brushing
his clothes in bewilderment.
Richard" he exclaimed, "forgive me
but had to take the blame | wrote that
Eric Davenant-I'm the guilty one!'
T EXPLAINED it all to them" said Mary
the next evening, as she and Eric sat to-
gether on the bench in front of her piano.
al told them that you wrote it as a joke one
day. and had forgotten all about it. in
dignantly denied that you did it for money,
Il think said something about your be
slowing all the royalties on charity, or some
thing OF the sort,-so you needn't be afraid
of what anyone may think. But-oh, Eric
dear, when we're married-promise me that,
no matter how things may go, you II never,
never, never let yourself be tempted to do
such a thing again"
NJ No cod