The Spectator., 1914-11-20

the events of the preceding evening came back to his mind. His hesitancy, Hills arguing with him, the details of their compact, and his final agree ment to the extraordinary proposal. An, yes! and Hills writing of the two letters, one of which ga } him, Pedro. possession of the apartment in which he now found himself The other to a friend of Hills to be delivered on the morrow-that was today-today.
 Slowly he let his gaze travel about the comfortable little bedroom in which he lay It's furnishings were simple in the extreme, yet adequate. Opposite him stood a chest of draw CTS. mahogany, and old. There were brushes on it and few simple ebony toilet necessities. At the foot of the bed was a door, half closed. The studio was in there! At the thought he sprang up and flung the door wide to discover if his memory of the night was a vision or a reality. As he stood upon the threshold he seemed for an instant to see, not the room before him, but the upright, fash ionably clad figure of Hill, leading a bear off into the dark regions beyond Washington square Then, throwing back his head. he laughed. and stepped | into the studio.
 Once 1t had been the attic covering the upper floors of two adjoining | houses. In every sense the place was a workshop, replete with the most per | feet tools for the trade of the brush, and the only spot conducive to idling was the chimney corner Upon the smaller easel stood the half-finished | portrait of a man, while against one wall a pile of canvases was standing, their faces hidden.
 | Pedro drew long breath of delight Then it was true; it had not been a dream, after all! He thought of MT. Jones again, and for a moment the | pang of that dear remembrance was bitter. How was Hill getting on with Old Nita? he wondered. If only it were possible to be with them, and here at the same time! An, we'll! one | could not serve two masters, and he had chosen and did not regret. On the mantel shelf stood letter | that Pedro had placed there on the previous evening. Hill had given it to him with the injunction to deliver 1t at the earliest possible moment. He read the superscription with interest: Abraham Lincoln Leigh An address on Tenth street followed. Pedro determined to deliver it at once.
 
 The house in which Abraham Lin coln Leigh lived, was, like almost ev- cry other building in this neighbor- hood, now being put to use other than that for which it was originally | intended, for once it had been a ware house for the storage of paper.
 "Yep!" said the hallboy, in response to Pedro's inquiry as to whether MT. Leigh was in. Third to your right Last door!"
 | So Pedro mounted and knocked Comet! said a resonant voice, which was like the booming of great bell. And Pedro, rejoicing at the mu- sic of it, promptly obeyed. It was a large studio which he en- tered large and crowded and disor- dered beyond belief. Several corners had been screened off for uses other than those of sculpture, which was the | self-evident occupation of the proprie- | tor.
 At the moment of Pedro's entrance Abraham Lincoln Leigh was stooping | over fryingpan full of bacon, which was sizzling on the stove; and the in- stantaneous impression which his vis- | itor received was that the mans name had in some curious fashion influ- enced his personal appearance. He was very tall, and his leanness was extraordinary. AS Pedro entered, he did not even turn his head for a mo- ment, but continued manipulating the bacon deliberately. When it was re- versed. he looked up at his visitor, and again the mellow voice rang out like the slow chimes of church bell.
 Who are you?"
 q am Pedro" said the owner of that name, flashing his white smile. "I have letter from Sam Hill"
 "Ah!" remarked Leigh. not, how ever, offering to take the missive. but looking at the bearer. and, as was so commonly the case, liking him. Then, in response to that smile of Pedro's. | Leigh smiled, rare thing in him, and an Illuminating
 Have you had your breakfast?" he | asked.
 Why, no! haven't!" exclaimed the boy, evidently surprised at the recol- lection of his lack.
 Leigh looked him over again, his face grave despite the gathering up of the little lines at the corners of his eyes.
 You're a friend of Sam's?" he asked