The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1914-03-11

THEUNLUCKY ROOM
BY EDNA r. PATTERSON.

Mrs. Filings, landlady, looked al
the girlish figure before her with q
certain softening of her thin, prac
tical features. Then, her glance trav
eled vaguely around the neat little
room; and after she had needlessly
adjusted the pincushion and straight
ened chair next to the bureau, she
looked at her prospective lodgeI
again, and cleared her throat.
Il think ! ought to tell you" she
began, as if with reluctance. "You
seem to like this room. and there's
nothing the matter with it as far as
! can see-but it's an unlucky room
The young strangers brown eyes
opened wonderingly. why, what dc
you mean? Unlucky-in what way?
We'll. it's this way. wouldn't
bother telling you at all if you were
man, or older, or-or-now, it isn't
spooks or anything like that, but hard
luck seems to 60 with the room, and
l guess it's got on my nerves. First
there was Mrs. Taylor whose husband
died on his way from the Philippines.
Then medical student took the room
and he got hit by an auto truck and
was sent home crippled. And cousin
of Mr.. Filings came in, and he lost
the position he'd held for twenty
years-lost it the very next week
and the next party was a crook, and
we had the police here and had ter
rible time"
The girls big eyes met those of the
narrator unflinchingly. 81 can't see
what the room had to do with any of
those misfortunes," she remarked po-
litely
Moo, of course not; but | begun
to feel queer about it. And when you
came along and"
rs that all? think you haven't
told me all" The young girl chal-
lenged her companion with a gentle
but direct glance. Mrs. Filings
laughed shortly.
MY dear-how wise you are! No,
1t isn't quite all The last lodger was
young girl like yourself, only more
delicate and notwithstanding when
she came here. Put she was very
young and a!oneand she was very
unlucky
The color was mounting in the
checks of Belle Doan, and her eyes
glistcned
"A girl like me young and alone"
she repeated, softly. who was she?
And what became of her."
she was an artist from upstate,
and she couldn't make a success Of
it, and she lost hope-and she killed
herself"
oh" The girls hands clasped to-
gether tightly. and her bright face
contorted with horror. Here, in this
ROOM she gasped "Oh, the poor
thing"
NO, not here, She was found in
the park. And she had always said
she had no near relatives, and I
couldn't find any addresses among
her things, SO sold her bits of Jew
elry and gave her decent burial
But it was shock. tell you"
Belle sat thinking well, I'm not
an artist, and have plenty of rela-
tivao opd Coma ,nDpoy opJ oboorf,,1
disposition" she said. finally. Il like
this room better than any I've seen,
and ! like you, Mrs. Tillings. So I'll
stay, and risk the influence or the
hoodoo."
Belle sent for her trunk and took
possession of the unlucky room. Mrs
Tillings would not have referred to
its past tenants again but her new
lodger seemed to be interested in her
unfortunate predecessor. The land
lady knew little, after all, for the
young artist had been of quiet, I'M
communicative disposition, but the
element of mystery made the affair
even more absorbing. There was a
small photograph for Belle to sea |
pale, wistful face with smoky masses
of hair and haunting eyes, the face of
one who had known unspoken long.
ings and unfulfilled desires.
She was never bright and happy |
like you,' said Mrs Filings. Some
folks are born for misery"
Bright and happy" reflected Belle,
alone in her room later Il thought
was-but-I'm not SO sure." She
leaned her chin on her hands and
stared out into the busy street. Il
thought was doing a fine thing when
came away to live my own indie
pendent life, but somehow things
haven't seemed as gay as | expected.
4 they all hadn't bothered me SO much
about Bliss Thatcher-if he hadn't
been 30 persistent wouldn't have
'un away. AS IL matrimony was the
,nly career for girl-the only thing
he could hope to attain. Pooh!"
Bellies thoughts often ran backward
Ifter that, and she became restless
md dissatisfied. She began to dread
Ter hours OF solitude.
Il don't know what ails me-" she
bought, one rainy afternoon. Il can't
ut my mind on reading or sewing
ny more. People bore me, and I'm I
S tired Of the towns pleasures as IL /
was jaded old woman. | guess {