The Parker post., 1918-06-22

The old man gasped, turned bit
white. then, like the soldier that he
too was at heart, he clasped the great
boy In his arms.
"Got my commission to-day" an
nounced the boy proudly, and then for
a second was silent. Finally he said
with catch in his voice: "My violin,
uncle. 1 want you to keep 1t for me.
l couldn't trust it to anyone else.'
''I'll treasure 1t, my boy" David told
him softly. you're giving up a great
career-the world is beginning to lis
ten to your fiddle" He put his arm
across the khaki shoulders. "But you
have taken up greater career, brave
soldier"
Young David laughed off the mo-
ment Of emotion that threatened his
recently acquired manhood, and picked
up his violin. David had but lately
passed twenty-one.
He played something rollicking and
happy to sweep away the tears, and
when his uncle was smiling he smiled.
"My boy" said the old composer,
"just run over those gems in that gray
book. 1 want you to hear them"
The young soldier picked up the
book and glanced quickly through 1t.
They were the snatches of melody cap
tured from the throat Of the songbird
upstairs.
David breathed heavily while he
drew his bow over those quaint notes,
and his cheeks became flushed and his
eyes brilliant. He was the tempera-
mental musical genius while he played.
His soul was futtering among the
poets, breathing their breath, gripping
their emotions. Yet his body was
clothed in khaki.
"Uncle" he demanded breathlessly,
"where did they come from? Are they
your own? They're gems-gems pol
ished by spirit breath. l have never
played anything more human, more
divine" He was lingering the pages
lovingly while he spoke.
At that moment Mildred rose from
the bed on which she had thrown her
self in misery. She shook back her
shoulders and held herself In scorn
for having given way to so slight
grief. There were big things being
done in the world, and she was
pygmy. She knew that, with faith In
the good of all things. she would find
a way of helping the brave fighting
men.
And in the ecstasy Of a newly found
strength with which to fight on her
throat unpinioned its notes and
grandeur Of song pierced the twilight.
The old composer and his nephew
sat below with hushed breath.
"There," whispered the one, 'there
Is where they came from, and she
doesn't know It," He smiled quietly in
the shadowed room. The picturesque
way with which to acquaint Mildred
with her own genius suddenly came to
him. He looked fondly at the black
rumpled head of his big nephew. That
the soldiers spirit was already up
there meeting with the girls was quite
evident from the exalted look in his
eye.
And in her room Mildred suddenly
felt a hot fash stinging her cheeks.
Someone seemed to have taken her
closely within his arms, and when her
glowing eyes could see through the
scarf Of love that enveloped her she
saw that the arms were khaki-clad.
And looking little beyond she saw
violin lying on the table, and beside
it, sitting with wonderful smile In
his dear blue eyes, was white-haired
man.
Mildred looked at her cheeks In the
mirror. Yes, there was color there.
A door opened IN the room below, and
presently she heard a knock on her
own door.
When they stood looking at one an
other, young David and Mildred, the
old man below fancied his listening
ears caught the soft swish Of souls as
they scurried into the meeting place
Of all lovers.
And out in the world these little
snatches Of melody were to be waited
from one heart to another, to take
their proper place among the COM
positions of the century.