Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1913-09-06

ence. But her Anglo-saxon mind could
discover no way to parry with equal
politeness. Also she told herself that
when one has dwelt too long with
tragedy, one wants to be amused. She
sat for five minutes, while brother and
sister made her the focus OF their con-
verSation. But she WAS not amused.
In the presence of his sister, Estrilla
appeared different man from the
light fencer with words Of their even
ings downstairs. He was grave; he
was formal. Infinitely tender toward
Miss Estrilla, he was also attentive
toward Betsy Barbara. but he did not
play with her as usual. It was puz-
cling, but little fascinating, this
change.
In Ave minutes moro. Betsy Barbara
tact to the aid Of manners
excuse to shield herself against Span
ish politeness, and left Estrilla bowling
gravely at the threshold.
Betsy Barbara thought hrst Of her
responsibility. Silently she opened
Constance's door and tiptoed to the
bod. Her Lady Of Troubles was asleep.
BY the night lamp which Constance
kept burning against the demons Of
her night thoughts, Betsy-Barbara
noted the growth OF lines in the re-
Taxed face She sighed and crept back
into the hall. There she hesitated .
The house seemed deserted
It was too late for ventufing forth
alone; yet, somehow, she must exor-
else the vague black visions which be-
gan to surround her-she who must
keep courage for two. Also, some
thing which she could not analyze
was stirring .disquiet in her soul.
III only had some work." she said
to herself. and sighed again. SO
she wandered aimlessly
The doors of the parior
were open; the lights were on; the
baby.grand piano stood open. inviting.
only merry tunes. though" she
warned herself a. she sat down. And
she started the Nvliest jag she knew.
Presently, she began to sing IN her
pleasant unframed voice, which wob-
bled entrancingk whenever she got
out OF the middle register. But music
is the slave of moods. And before
shet was aware, her voice was follow
ing the strings In old and melancholy
loye-songs. Now it was Loeb Lomond-
"By yon bonnie banks,
And by yon bonnie braee,
Where the sun shines bright on Loeb
IIomond--"
At this point, Betsy-Barbara drop
ped her hands from the keys. and the
music stopped abruptly. She was just
aware that fine floating tenor had
been humming the part from the door
way. Senior Estrilla stood looking
down on her.
my seester has gone to Sleep" he
said. And then, THAT is Scotch
song, is IT. not? Please go. on" Betsy
Barbara smiled, nodded ), resumed her
keys; and they sang together
Where me and my true love
Were ever, wont to-gaes
on the bonnie, bonnie banks OF Loeb
!. Lomond.",
i when the song was finished, Estrilla
leaned on the piano and looked down
at Betsy Barbara. HIS mood seeming
~ had changed; 1t was bis whim to
talk.
"They are little cold on the sur
face those Scotch love:songs," he said,
enough warm beneath, like . volcano.
Now we who speak Spanish-we can
throw our emotions TO the surface"
"Don't you think, Il responded Betsy
Barbara. that to. conceal it-but to
show It's there the more wonder
'ful way after all?"
The blood Of the MacGregors IN
Betsy.Barbara was calling her to the
defense OF her own.
.Do you happen to know any OF our
Spanish songs?" pursued Estrilla.
"Only Juanita. I think-and La
Paloma."
Estrilla looked as though he might
have laughed but for Spanish polite
ness.
chose are Spanish for outside con.
sumption, as whom the English call
your cheap-oilcloth is It not-Ameri-
can cloth Let me sing to you-but
a Spanish song does not 60 well with
the Liano-
There's guitar over in the alcove,
announced etsy-Barbara.
"Far-seeing maiden!" exclaimed Es'
trilla with such delicious Spanish
roll on the vowels that Betsy-Barbara
laughed a little; and he. as though
understanding, laughed with her.
So he tuned the guitar, Betsy-Bar-
bara finding the key for him on the
piano. And while he tweaked the
strings, he made comment on them. as:
"This- hear-is the, angeistring
1t Is for celestial harmonies. One can
not, go wrong on this string: but 1t Is
too fine and high to make all our
music. This is the man-string. You
can 60 very right or very wrong on
this one" "Thees one," he pronounc-
ed it; and he drew out the .vowels as
though lingering on the thought.
"This is the woman-string. Listen
how discordant now! tune 1t to the
man-string. for / am God Of this little
world-and now how beautiful"
you are talking poetry" said
Bets--Barbara; and thought OF the
phrase as somewhat awkward.
...Ah, but am inspired" replied Is
trilla. :,
("He surely doesn't mean me-
Hkho$ would h<u