The Washington times., 1927-08-30

NO GSCAN WAS A4ItM nOWs5
It's awful kind of you, but I
couldn't. Dan, honest / just
couldn't let you pay my board.
But IL you can land me q job.
any kind Of q Job. I'll take IL
and-and-and I'll work like all
the devils to make good. so help
me. will!'
Il may be able to get some.
thing up soon, but tomoroW'a
New Years Day. You'll lose that
voice IL yuo starve yourself, and
that won't do. understand"
Becky's laughter rang clear
and merry.
Say boy, my voice grows when
don't eat. I'll make out tomor.
row IL you'll fix me up next day"
All right. have your way"
Scarlet rose. Anything left in
that bother"
A little maybe" Becky
measured ruefuIly.
Well. fill up and we'll drink
to fame and fortune and happy
New Year
"A happy New Year" echoed
Becky. clicking her glass against
his. And at that very moment the
bells began to chime. the whistles
blew loudly. and. as clock out.
side chimed twelve, the lights
went out.
CHAPTER III
Charles Street, locale Of Becky
MeCloskey's modest domicile, is
one of those unobstrusive
thoroughfares which thread
Greenwich Village from Seventh
Avenue toward the grey waters
of the Hudson. Named for a once
illustrious parsonage, its eastern.
most end Is still occupied by re.
spectacle grocery stores, and
dwellings OF some comfort. But
the dismal brownstone house in
which one cubicle was allotted to
Becky was a block beyond popu-
lous Blocker Street, and the
noisiness OF its daytime hours,
when push-cart vendors and
housewives filled the air with
their cutlery, was exceeded only
by the extreme gloom and silence
Of its dark and oderous nights.
Many a time had Becky, emery
ing footsore from the subway
station and hurrying home pur.
sued by the echoes of her own
footsteps, consoled herself by re-
iterating in a whisper: II haven't
nothing for 'em to steal
I'm prefectly safe I
haven't a thing they'd want"
But tonight she walked with a
swing to her step and q glow on
her cheeks. Tonight she hoped,
and 1t was as IL. with the hope
in her haert, she had brought the
grim street to life. 1t was early
morning Of New Years Day, and
swarthy Italians, bedecked with
paper caps and notified with snow
and confetti shouted and sang and
quarreled. Becky smiled con-
fidently and shouted greetings to
strangers. What matter that
yesterday she went hungry? Last
night she had been fed, and to.
morrow she was to have her great
chance, the chance for which she
had not dared to hope, the chance
to be heard, to sing!
She climbed the slippery brown
stone stairs of the boarding house
gaily. her head in the air, singing
under her breath:
"I'll have stockings of silk,
Shoes of fine green leather.
Combs to buckle my hair,
And ring for every finger ="
On the top step she slipped, the
crooked heel Of her right shoe
snapped in the middle, and Becky,
picking herself up amid the
braves Of a few late jewellers, re.
garded the wreckage of her
shabby costume and concluded
her song with the ironic epilogue:
Il guess all that's a long way off
yet"
So Becky came to the fourth
floor back, and turned loose
door-knob, and came into her
home. There she lighted the
stub of a candle-for candles
were cheaper than gas--and.
bending down, called softly: Here
Kitty, Kitty. Kitty"
It. was not cheering. this room.
There was something bleak, even
something forbidden in the de.
caVed remnants Of tawdry splen.
dor. The woodwork Of the win.
dow. once ornamently gilded to
its last curling leaf. had come
loose from the molding, so that
knife-edge of cold wind stirred
the candle flame.
Where bright curtains had been
there was now a frayed green
shade, hanging at a rakish angle.
The wall paper. covered with
bouquets of hideous roses in
maroon and greenish yellow. had
peeled from the walls in some
places. while in others the flow.
ers. of color that was no more
fast than 1t was pretty. had faded
or smeared from the damp that
seeped in from outside.
The furnishings were meagre.
A table, an insultingly flawed
mirror, a row of hooks along one
side OF the room. and iron bed
stead with a thin, sagging mat.
tress. and one rickety chair. On
the chair, with her feet stuck
out and her head hanging
gawkily to one side, sat Charlotte
Russo, rag-doil. boon companion
OF Becky who had come, ike
Charlotte herself. out of the
slums.
In the midst of these sur.
roundings, her pale face and
shining eyes illuminated by the
flickering candlelight. Becky
crouched on her heels, calling
softly: Here Kitty. Kitty, Kitty
And presently there emerged
from beneath the bed, with
graceful tread and gently waving
tail, black kitten as thin and
poor looking as her owner, but
still proud, mysterious, queenly.
The kitten approached and rub.
. had a. hns.lr nln...... HA..I...I-