The Barre daily times. (Barre, Vt.) 1897-1959, 1917-12-31
A HEART STORY.
BY WILLARD CHALLONER.

'e "Two hundred, my dear fellow" col
20 rected Rupert Thrall picture broker
7" 'Why do you minimize a really preten
~ tious streak of fortuneT
o Because / agreed to give you nj
even half Of whatever The Masquera
i ders' sold for"
eve will waive that in this in
> stance" Thrall asserted. "Ive got faitl
/ In you, In your ability and in your fina
fame and fortune therefore / insis
: on financing you, TO an extent, ant
, making up for it when / am selling
! your pictures ut thousands instead Of
hundreds. SO l decline to take my
commission. provided you follow my
directions explicitly as to the invest
ment of the money"
"And that ISL" submitted Warren.
flake vacation"
/. Warren Deane had been home boy,
living a quiet life with his widowed
mother until she died. Alone in the
world, he followed the bent of his
mind in the direction of art and liter
AZURE.
The sale Of '"The Masqueraders" was
the advice Of the only friend he had
found in the great wilderness Of the
city, the picture broker, and two days
later was established In a quiet village
| boarding house at Vlrden, and roam
! ing the hills with easel and color box,
/ cub ctr
One morning he was e;ching out
in crayon a dell outline upon the can
vas, when little miss Of about five
passed along a woodland path fringing
the deep gully beyond. A great bushy
dog frisked about her. Her charming
face, her graceful bow attracted him
and irreslstibly his eyes followed her.
Suddenly, appalled, he sprang to his
feet from the camp stool. In switching
about her, the dog brushed too close
to the child-she toppled; and went out
of sight over the edge of the cliff.
Shocked, half-stunned, shuddering.
Warren ran TO the ledge. A great sigh
of hope rent his lips as, five feet down,
he saw the child wedged against a
slanting rock and crying with fright
and clinging to frail bush. Beneath
yawnad an abyss.
Don't novel Don't let go!" cried
Warren. He was trembling all over
as he let himself over the ledge. He |
uttered gasp of joy as his feet were
anchored. Slowly liftingsthe child. he I
ha hounnH no IalUa nitTnhaH /
up himself, and fell upon log, breath
less and exhausted.
Warren soothed her and carried her
TO where his easel stood, and placed
her on the camp stool.
"Now you must rest, and then go
right home, and don't ever get so near
the ravine again." he said.
"And I'll tell Maudie how good you
are, and she'll just love you" prattled
the innocent. "And-oh, my! I'll get
some more doughnutS and bring them
here, and ii will be my picnic, and you
are invited. Won't that be grand?"
Warren resumed his work. Sure
enough. at the end of two hours the
little one reappeared. She carried a
paper bag which she placed carefully
IN the stool.
II told sister Maudie, and she said
must thank you, and bring you home
With me, for her to thank you
And then little Winnie questioned
lin about the easel, and his being
here, and what was an artist man.
lie caught her pose with true artists
we as, on tip-toe. she held one of the
loughnuts above her head, the dog
tandlng on his hind feet and reaching
or it.
Don't move-keep that way" or
ered Warren in fever OF enthusiasm. !
While he sketched the presentation ,.
apidly. "Fll make a canvas of 1t. ,,
hat will do"
Warren tried to evade going home !,
nth little Winnie, though invited, but
he was persistent. When he came to
ieet Maude Springer. whom he never
fterwards forgot, she was all that !
as lovely, dainty and gentle.
One day at the village he learned =
hat Maude Springer. although she =
we'd humbly, was heiress TO one of the :.
lrgest estates In the district. The
anne day he packed up his kit dis :
1nsolately. He would never tell his >
vel
II will not even tell her good-by-
is better to go now. before i suffer
ore deeply" he unused. wonder, :
lough, what she would think If | ),
Id her that / loved her. and asked :.
er to become the wife Of a poor but ;.
evoted sutton. and" =
All of this was what Warren Deane :,
rote as a story in the woodland dell :,
at sunny. last afternoon in para ii
Sc. II was his true heart story. He :.
II the sheets across the camp stool, :.
he proceeded some distance away TO !.
Ike down and pack up hammock he ;,
nd strung between two trees in a i
ady nook. &c
He came back to get his other traps "a,
gether, little knowing that during ~
s absence Maude Springer had visited 10
g spot. She read the pathetic heart IN
Dry. Then she took up its last page en-
"a added-"finis -
And this was the "inis" that War
n Deape found added to his true
art story:
So and Maude Springer would I'd