The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1916-03-09

In the top of the tall tenement
Tom Stevens recklessly lighted both
gas burners.
Il might as well be warm once
No murmured, and settled back in his
uncomfortable chair to pass another
day In pain and loneliness.
1t 10 bad enough to be sick, even
IN the midst Of luxury. but to be
sick and poor, that IL enough to
make q man groan and writhe. Tom
Stevens. alone In the big city, too
proud to write back home and tell of
his hard luck. looked at the gray
skies and the gay streets and wished
he were dead.
And just then he heard the rustic
OF paper, and, looking toward the
door, he saw that a note had been
slipped under it.
Painfully he crossed the room, and
painfully he returned to his big
chair. Then he opened the sheet of
paper. Across the top was painted
wreath of tiny rosebuds, and un-
derneath was the verse:
There is ever song somewhere. my
dear,
Though the skies above be dark and
drear;
There is ever song that our hearts
shall hear.
dear, ny
There is ever a song somewhere.
As he read Tom felt as If the sun
were shining and the birds singing
on June day. Who had thought OF
him In his loneliness? Why. 1t was
better than food and dr:nk-better
than fire and warmth.
It's a girls handwriting" he said
to himself He felt as If he wanted
to get right up and hunt for her, but
when he tried to move he sank
back with a groan, and the little
neighborhood doctor, coming in, eau
toned him.
The next morning the janitor's
wife brought him his meager meal.
1t was sloppy and badly cooked anc
Tom turned from it with a sigh. So
the janitor's wife carried the tray, but
left crack in the door.
And 1t was through this crack an
hour later, was slipped a tiny tray.
On 1t was a steaming cup Of coffee,
two slices of hot toast, and soft
boiled egg.
Tom. making for the door, threw
1t wide open and faced an empty
hallway. He dragged himself to the
apartment across the way and
knocked. The janitor, passing through
the hall. asked curiously: Did you
want any help, sir?"
Who lives in there" Tom de-
manded.
IAN old man and his wife," said
the janitor. And he works and she
works."
Tom sighed and went back to find
on the tray little note:
Little Tommy Tucker sings for his sup
What shall he sing for. white bread and
butter.
Tom ate the toast and the egg,
drank the coffee and laid the note
carefully away in his bill book with
the one which had come the day be
fore.
Just wait till I'm WE'LL" he muir
INJURED.
He resolved that he would watch
the door and lie in wait.
But l wonder-when she'll come.
was his eager thought.
The day passed, and the night was
well advanced, when Tom, still lying
awake, heard In the hall a little
sound. He sat up and listened, and
suddenly he was aware of light
shining under the door. Gathering
his dressing gown about him, he rose
from his couch, opened the door and
looked out. On the threshold was a
lighted candle in an old-fashioned can.
dlestick. Tied to the handle was
card. and on the card was written:
How far that little candle throws
his beams so shines good deed in a
naughty world"
Tom went back to bed. and labori-
ously made his stiff fingers pen his
sentiments:
Dear Lady Bountirul I can't write
poetry. but can say in plain, every
day words how grateful | am. And
how | wish-but, you know what |
wish-that Fate will not be unkind
and that-some day-when you will IL
that l may see you, and tell yor
what is not easy to say adequately on
He signed It Tommy Tucker" and
put it in the hall and shut the door
And when an hour later he opened the
door the note was gone
Aha" said Tom to himself, she's
not far away. and that's something
to think about
After a time there came quick
tap, tap" and Tom got out OF his
chair in a hurry. but by the time he
reached the door the hall was
empty, but there was a note lying
waiting for him.
It said: Il am going to send
you a grandmother-you must be nice
to her for my sake
Tom whistled. We'll, OF all things"
he calculated.
At six precisely a little, gray-hair-
ed lady hustled in
Gracious" she said without wait
ing for formalities, you poor boy
This won't do at all. You ought to |
be in bed, covered up with hot water |
bags and hot broths and, and"
But. really. | can't" Tom STAN |
mered
Nonsense" said the brisk little |
lady. II have four sons of my own. |