The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1918-01-15

the office where she worked, the old
man sat at his desk and transposed
the notes of her songs from his brain
to the stated paper on his desk.
He dotted in notes here and there,
making changes, adding a hint of
technique here and a sense of rhythm
there. Each page as it fiuttered from
his pen held dainty score of music
notes. that generation to come would
still be singing. They were exquisite
bits of melody, some for the voice and
others for the violin.
The old man pondered hour upon
hour as to the identity of the girl
whose voice gave to his listening ears
those wonderful notes. :
In his own lifetime he had COM
posed songs that would live and live
and re-live, and now he was weary.
He had drained his own cup of in
spiration to the dregs, and now this
girl in the room above had flung into
his soul snatches of melody that it
were a crime to have lost.
He wondered from whom she had
inherited that gift of original herding
of notes.
'"There has been music somewhere,
everywhere about her, and yet hardly
think she is conscious that she has
composed a score or more of wonder
| full songs"
And because David Ward was a ro-
mantle old man, with soul filled to
! the brim with fantasy, he-pondered on
picturesque way in which to ac-
quaint the girl with her own gift. He
had the songs for the voice bound in
one dainty volume, and those for the
violin in another.
And while the old man pondered
Mildred, too, was worrying her brain
and becoming wistful-eyed and trou-
bled.
81 just can't stand it any longer"
she told herself, tearfully. Il must
make some money. Everyone else is
helping the soldiers, and 1 don't even
have five dollars extra a month to
help with"
That evening her song was sad; so
sad that David Ward swept moisture
from his eyes as the notes stopped
abruptly in the room above.
Something told him that sobs had
choked the songbird's notes.
II An hour LATER, when the sad little
melody was down on paper, David's
door was flung open and his big
nephew bounded in, a wonderful smile
on his face and his shoulders erect.
~@ earring khaki.
The old man gasped, turned a BIZ
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 it for me
/ couldn't trust it to anyone else"
''Tll treasure it, my boy" David told
him softly. you're giving up q 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 anC
happy to sweep away the tears, anC
when his uncle was smiling he smiled
"My boy" said the old composer
'just run over those gems in that gray
book. want you to hear them"
The young soldier picked up the
book and glanced quickly through it
They were the snatches of melody cap
tured from the throat of the songbirt
upstairs.
David breathed heavily while hi
drew his bow over those quaint notes
and his cheeks became flushed and hi:
eyes brilliant. He was the tempera
mental musical genius while he played
His soul was fluttering among th'
poets, breathing their breath, gripping
their emotions. Yet his body wal
clothed In khaki.
"Unclel" he demanded breathlessly
"where did they come from? Are the.
your own? They're ssmS-gems Dol