Newspaper Page Text
laMrggwyr "twiw" tj '.u.. m"'--n
radiant smfle of compassion and In
( teresfc His whole face lighted up.
i He bowed his thanks, a choking as
piration in his throat, and pass'ed on.
"Once, such a face as that and I
would have immortalized it!" he said
huskily as he reached the outer air.
It seemed to place him in a dreamy
mood. It was before him all that day.
When he sat down on a park bench
at dusk the face of the lady beautiful
was still before him.
Gratefully, almost revently, he par
took of the extra meal the dainty
hands of the beautiful girl had pre
pared for him. He shook out the last
crumbs from the bag.
Something jangled and glittered
upon the bench seat beside him as
it came out of the bag. He picked
it up. A heart-shaped piece of gold
showed, with a tiny, sparkling dia
mond in its center. He traced script
letters across its surface, "Mother to
Ivy" it read.
"Why, it must have been torn from
the bracelet worn by the young lady
who waited on me," murmured the
young man. "I must get it back to
her at once."
When he reached the old lodging
house building he found its functions
of the day disposed of. Two elderly
ladies were just getting ready to
leave. He approached them respect
fully and his gentlemanly bearing im
"There was a young lady rjght at
that table," and the speaker indicated
the spot in question. "Can you give
me her name and address? She lost
something and I have found it and
wish to return it to her."
"Miss Ivy Winsted, 22 Mowbray
terrace" over and over the young
man repeated the address, fearful of
forgetting it At the end of a four
mile walk he felt his strength giving
way. He could scarcely climb the
marble steps leading up to the man
sion he had finally reached.
As he stood catching his breath at
the open vestibule door, a sudden
faintness possesced him. He had oyer-,
taxed his feeble strength. He sank to
the railing to recover himself. A.
young man about his own age ran
smartly up the steps.
"Hello I say!" he hailed the vis
itor. "What's this sick?"
"If you please, I have a message
for Miss Ivy Winsted," spoke the call
er, with difficulty rising to his feet,
but forced still to cling to the balus
trade for support
"Oh, you have indeed?" retorted
the young man dubiously.
"Miss Winsted lost a bracelet pen
dant," was the faint explanation. "I
found it Please give it to her "
"Hello! Hold on! I declare!" and
Jerome Winsted, the brother of Ivy,
caught the other just in time to pre
vent him from going hurtling head
long down the steps. "You need at
tention, you do. He's gone under!"
and young Winsted bodily carried the
insensible burden into the house, de
positing him on a couch in his own
private study. "
At length the convalescent opened
his eyes. The first object his dazed
vision took in was an oil painting
hanging upon the wall opposite him.
He stared, he forced himself to rise.
Wondermen, joy, pride commingled
in his eager face.
"Why," he cried, "that is my pic
ture!" "Out of his head, poor fellow!" so
liloquized Jerome Winstead, but in
dulgently he observed aloud: "Your
"Yes, I am Paul Rivers," declared
the other, almost wildly. "You will
find my initials in the lower right
hand corner, 'P. R.' It was before I
got so ill I had to sell it to Moreau,
the picture broker. He said it was
a daub, but gave me $10 for it out
of pure charity, he said." 7
"The infamous scoundrel!" cried
young Winsted indignantly. "Why,
it took the prize at the art exhibition
and I gave $2,000 for it See here,
my friend, you've got a story to tell
and I want to hear it."
It was over a refreshing meal thai
I jwJ!iMj!L?gte'iM!LJWSS JJM-gjjM