Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1915-06-03
The Ledger In
Number Eleven
Copyright. The Frank A, Munsey compar
BY KATE JORDAN

Miss Pickerwick lived in a garnet
in a decayed mansion which stood at
the corner of upper BECKER street
and one Of the queer little byways
with forgotten name running across
that dingy New York thoroughfare.
AS for Miss PickerWick herself, she
was in harmony with the refinement
and coziness of her garnet room. She
had a smile that old people and chill
dren warmed to, and voice, touch
of hand, that made homeless cats and
dogs adopt her as their own as soon
as they came within the radius of
either.
Years before-ah, how many, many
wears before. she had lived in this
very house where now she rented a
garnet No one remembered the story
now-except Miss Pickerwick.
David Townsend" was the name
written across a carte de visite pho
sograph at the bottom OF a cedar box
which an uncle of Miss PickerWick' S
had brought years ago from Palestine.
The picture showed a handsome, reck-
less type of the ultra-fashiOnable
young man Of the late sixties The
face had poetry and fire in it; the
very pose Of the head was impulsiVe.
He seemed a man who would make
bitter mistakes and eat the kernel of
despair in unavailable regret for
them.
This is just what David Townsend
did. no doubt, when he Tilted pretty
Rosanna Piskerwick for Mile. Della
phine, the dancer at the BOwery The
alter who walked on the hearts Of the
young men Of that day. You will
understand now why Miss Pickerwick
hated the words actress" and the
alter"
She stopped sewing when a barrel
organ paused under her window and
began churning out Her Bright
Smile Haunts Me Still" The old, old
song that so many girls had sung to
their sweethearts in the long ago
seemed to speak in reawakened ten
uerness to the old house, and also to
Miss PickerWick's heart.
The needle fell unheeded to the
floor as she began to think Of the
second chapter OF her life's story
the dark chapter after the blow fell,
when she had to bear the stigma Of
"iilted." She had carried her head
high. though her heart seemed no
longer to beat under it's load of pain.
IF he is living, l suppose he is
still in Paris Wasn't it in seventy
seven that Abbay Sheldon ran across
him on the stairs of the Grand Opera
Yes, he was living there then Then
ii was eighty-fOur when Mary Fitz-
william wrote to me from Rome, say
ing he was living on pension there,
his wife dead, most Of his money
gone All, he's probably dead by this
time" She stitched diligently. Il
wonder if he was happy wonder if
he ever regretted" and her
thoughts trailed away into thin i'm
aginings.
There was a hurried little tip-tap
at the door 1t was Ralph's individual
knock, so that She would not hesitate
TO admit him.
She hurried over and turned the
key her face very happy. She loved
Ralph-his youth, his handsome. face,
his talent, his ambition to be a great
sculptor.
why, Ralph" she said, as she
shook his hand, drawing him in. Il
didn't expect a visit today. This is a
pleasant surprise TO your old cousin"
Il was down after an Italian model
- thought I'd look in" said Ralph,
with a touch of CONFUSION as he sat
down.
When the little table was set, Miss
Pickerwick became suddenly aware of
a surprising thing, which she had
tailed to notice in her hurry.
why, Ralph" she exclaimed, have
not you on your best gray suit?-and
white flower in your button hole?
What does it mean?"
why, it means, Cousin Rosie, that
besides hunting for model I've been
calling on young lady who lives in
this very house"
Whom can You possibly know here,
Ralph?" and she started at him.
Don't you know the people in No.
IL, first floor?" he asked.
Il make no acquaintances among
the lodges here. They are mostly
foreigners"
Foreigners ?" Ralph laughed
why, auntie, you've no idea what
nice people live in other countries.
Now this -Eugenie-is French. "
Miss Pickerwick thought OF Mile.
Delaphine and her very educated toes.
Have nothing to do with her, my
dear Ralph she said, setting her
mouth primly. French women are
butterflies"
'She has character to burnt"
lis that slang?" Miss Pickerwick
asked helplessly. 81 don't under
stand"
YES, l suppose it iss and not very
elegant; but l mean she has heaps OF
character. Why, do you know, after
singing her little part every night in