Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

Tuesday, December 3 q 1924 . • LLlXan °mi»».....mnrnTm iiiii i iiiii i,. 1 * -• the second fiddle H In Wh ** the Powerful Influence of Example Does Much to Develop Independence. I By ELEANOR PORTER Author -of “ Pollyanna, M 44 Just David,” Etc. ' axxxxxxx *xvaxxxxxr EteSnor R poner A T .' h : t flrst r all£ sound of the step or * below Kate Denn J Ie - er «t. a delicate flusli „„ t . in her .' er ebeeks an d a new lighi „ J es She listened, n mo H ion . less untu ' the * standing tlrred whl of the w Hurriedly f, she her into life. crossed the room tc a ," d patted with shaking g the already smooth waves oi her pale yellow hair. From the lace hastily, hLfrT thr substituting v ° at Sh< ‘ tore the blue bow to replace It a plnk one-mil, blue. almost at once wIth the Her gown at back and waist Ut with !fn n her 6eves still she shaking touched tentatively plainly nothing fingers; when else could be done to make perfection more perfect, she urned and waited, her expectant eyes on the closed door leading from her chamber to' the hall. Two three, five minutes passed. e su dued confusion of an entrance anc t e sound of voices had up from the hall below, but all was silent now Three more minutes Kate _ ennj watted. Surprise, doubt, and a Tightened questioning came in turn o her eyes; then resolution, as she softly crossed the room and opened A light laugh floated the stair-! | and deeper up way, a note answered. The girl drew back, half closing the door. Then It was true. He had casne, und she had not been summoned to go down. Edith was there, however— that light laugh had been hers. . . ho it was’-to be the 1 old story over again. If Edith wanted it, she must have It, whether It were a jam tart i —, or the exclusive attention of an eve- j nlng caller. Always It' had been like that; and ; always she, Kate, bad taken the sub ordinate place, together with the small er—tarK--- Resolutely Kate Denny opened the door wider and took one step into the hall. Well, fi’hy not? That was John Kennison down there. He bad come to see her. Irresolutely the girl still stood de bating the matter, when the twang of a violin string came from tlie room below and seemed to end all hesita tion. With swift steps and heightened color, Kate Denny tripped down the stairs and entered the brightly lighted living-room. John Kennison rose at once, an almost boyish eagerness In ids glance, Edith Denny turned slowly. Her eyes carried a barely Iierceptible annoyance. Oh, here’s pate,” she said. “You’re just i in time, Kate, to turn the music.” John Kennison played first violin In a large city orchestra. He stood now close to the piano, his instrument in his hand, and his eyes longingly fixed on Kate Denny. “It’s a ooSicerto. I was going t» try it a bit,” he began eagerly. “You know,* I brought the piano score last week. Y'ou said you’d-” “Yes, it’s right here, Mr. Keimiscm,” Interrupted Edith, ' brightly. “And we’d love to play It With you. ■OYiroe, Kate.” For one brief Instant Kate almost relielled. John Kennison had ashed her to practice that score, and she had practiced it for hours nt n time untiTlt was at her finger tips; yet she was expected to stand patiently by and turn the leaves for Edith. “But. Edith ” hesitated Kate, “don't you think it would be better if I “Nonsense! of course you can turn the music, Kate," laughed her sister, airily. “Don’t be timid! Come.** It was not a success—tin 1 playing of tliat concerto. From start to finish it was an agitated scramble on the part of each piayer to find and keep step With the other. At the conclusion Edith laughed hysterically, Kate bit tier lips in open confusion, and John Kennlson readied for hi« handkerchief to wipe the perspiration frun ills face. A moment later Edith suggested that they try a popular love song to Which she knew the accompaniment; and with a fervent “Yea. do; If yo» iplease 1" the man raised hi* violin to (Position. ,For half an hour then Kate eat in i,corner.and listened to ragtime, and to ;tbe brilliant sallies of her *!ster Edith, who was entertaining Jolw JKen nieou. A little later, cake was brought in—ncake that Edifih said she Jiad made.; and at the wottds Kate thought at :tl*e kitchen that morning wife Edith, idatnty In a fre*h frock, stand ing at «he shelf, stirring gingerly at a mncoctfen, not one Ingredient of whlefc had been put In without minute In Btructiou* from the elder alster. After the cake had heen eaten and Inly praised, there was mar* music, then John Kennlson rose hr go home.. He said good-by, and looked at Rate i .ovtngly; but before she could answer, Edith interposed a merry question; | and it was Edith who went with him to the door, and who asked him to :on» again. In her own room that night Kate Denny confronted the thing^qunrely. ! Behind set teeth she said: “I will not give up John Kennison. cSdltb shall not have him—to play with, »id toss aside! No! »* Then, alone. In the dark, she IduslBid i a shamed red, and began to lash her self with scorn. Had she, indeed, fallen so low as to be ready to quarrel over a man, as a dog would fight, for a bone? Doubt less, anyway, John 'Kennlson preferred Edith. It was merely another case of the smaller tart. Alter all, was there not such a thing as too much self-sacrifice, too continual self-repression? A certain amount, of course, was beautiful, virtuous, and altogether commendable, but might there not eouie a point where they became actually a fosterer of other people’s selfishness, and a sin agaiir.it one’s own individuality? As if a perpetual seeder of raisins and eater of chicken wings could live a full. free life—a life that really brought out tlie best within one’s self and within nne’M tvth.w men' men. in,teen, indeed no! And there should be a Change—a rightabout face. She would see to it that there was With sweet, gentle, yet firm dignity, she would 1 take her rightful place. And with this thought in mind, Kate Denny rose to iter feet, prepared her self for bed, and then ■ determinedly raised her window before opening the connecting door leading to her sister’s room. * As expected, she did not have long to wait. “Kate!” called her sister. 71 ’■’Yes, Edith.” “Where's all that wind coming from?” "From my 'window, perhaps; It’s open. “Open! Why, Kate Denny, you have your window open! it "I'know I don’t; but I'thought I tonight. I wanted the air. »i «« But it’s so cold! I’m half-frozen. Do you want me to catch my death of cold?” ~ “Why, no, of—of course not,” mur mured Kate. Involuntarily she started to get out of bed; then suddenly she fell hack. With stern resolution she wet her dry lips and said, “If you're cold, Edith, why don't you pul! up an other blanket?” 4* 4 Cold!’ ‘Another blanket V Why, Kate, what are you thinking of, when you know how I hate a lot of stuffy clothes over me! I never knew you to act like this! Well, If you won’t shut it, 1 shall—that's aUT” And the swift patter of bare feet and the de termined Ivang of the window sash told that Edith had made good her word. “There ■m exclaimed an aggrievedly triumphant voice, as the patter re treated through the open doorway. On the bed Kate Denny made -on* nx-we effort to rise—to catch the fleet ing “sweet, gentle, yet firm dignity” of bar promise .to herself; then wearily she fell hack. “After alii it’ll he easier to begin tomorrow In .daylight when—when I’m up ami dressed,” she told herself. “Be xirtes. there won’t he anything so hard jig tlijut window is, to—assert iny rights al>o lit." “Tomorrow,” however, ymwved that -dignity hail neitlier to do with day light uor being dressed, *nd that whether it were ira open window or a pmoffanad invitation about which one wished to assert one’s self, there was no variation in ifihe difficulty «f doing it. r'tSbe ’ laid arisen , early and started breakfast (in spite of it being Edith’s week to perform that duty). JShe had wakhed the dishes while Edith went to market, because Edith liked te go to marifcet—when it was pleasant. When it rained, Kate herself went. As usual, she had tidied the kitchen and the bathroom, leaving the lighter dusting to Edith and her mother, who pre ferred that kind. As usual, toe. at luncheon, she had given the golden brown crusts of her ■ rolls to Edith, not because she herself did not like golden-brow® crusts, but because Edith always wanted them. To be sure, Kate had tried to keep them .herself todaa ! taut Edith ntaeUc'l for them as a mat (er of course—and got them. •At two i i’Hoe a -Jtdm- Kmm lgon - ca me with the invitation lo so sleighing Kate was dre*ait.g, and Edith had goo* to the door. Kate could i hear now what her sister I4.0I called, «wt merrily, sauefey : "Ofc, she’s busy, JJr. Kenoison; but I’ll g*t. I’ll be rhait out.” Kate .had run then swiftly into the upper ball, and had .uttered wane sort of protest. But Editfc hud only laughed and answered scornfully: it Why, Kate, you Mere busy—you know you were! You were drewing. purely, yog don’t want ine to change toow, and—and tell him .you won’t tot «ae go, do y«u? Kate had murmured a faint “No, of eoiwse not,” gnd had «rept hack, astwmed, Into Her ow n room. And not tint# she had hoard the sleifjb-bells go Jingling down the road did she remem ber that "sweet, gentle, yet Ann dig nity" that vvus to leave been hers that day. It was of tliis, ail tills, that Kate wjisi thinking now, us she dressed for Hie concert that evening. The concert war. to be a grand affair in town, given by John Kennison’s orchestra. John Kennison was only, one of the eight irst violins in that orchestra, but to GRIFFIN DAILY NLWS the Dennys the “philharmonic '* wne tUwu.' luwuvK •‘John Kennison's orchestra,” s%d »»1 «s ' sueli Its concerts wen; enthu-’ sinatleuliy welcomed, Tonight, how ever, there was no animation, no joy lit Kate Denny's lace ns she dressed herself; nor ditl even the anticipatory rustle and hunt-of the concert room itself bring tin answering flash or spar kle us she waited for the tlrst nutnher tat the programme. \ This was tier mood when a chance conversation between two men in front of her aroused « mild sort of interest * “Who is that long-haired, dreamy eyed creature caressing his fiddle as if il were the dear child of his heart?” asked one man of the other. Almost unconsciously Kate Denny turned her head to catch the reply. She, too, had often Idly wondered about that particular dreamy-eyed vio linist. “That? Oh, that's Bronoffsky.” “Queer-looking chap! Good player?" “Hm-m—well, yes, he Is. Still—he’s only a second fiddle up there, you know. 'He plays second violin.’’ There was a moment’s pause, then, hnlf mus Ingly, the voice went on: “Do you know, it’s rather funny about that fel low, Bronoffsky. He is possessed and consumed by one mad ambition; he wants to lead, direct, — be a conductor, you know.” “Well, why doesn't he?” 1 P ^ ’ a coll]dnt! Bronoffsky’s a dreamer, , not . 11 dot ‘ r - He can P la - V - sure—second fiddle - But he hasn t the nlldlence sense; he doesn’t know how to handle ^ H e doesn’t know how to hold , thirty, forty, fifty instruments at the tip of a little black stick. All his life he’s Been controlled, not In control. Ail his life he’s done another’s will, not his own. Great Scott! man, Bron offsky is—is just what you see, a flrst rate second fiddle!” There was-a burst of applause—the leader of the Philharmonic had ap peared on the platform. A moment later came the electric hush that fol $ . , I v , t; m 7 m ( i (_*W« E? % ipV w. II il CY & elU. For -Ore Brief Instant Kate Almost Rebelled. low* the tap of the con-due'or's baton; then .-wounded u long, quivering note from' .tile first violins. Biit.nll this Kate Her my. neither saw .:w>r .beard. Behind tlie two men who had talked of Bronoffsky -she sat tense arid .motionless, her eyes staring straight ahead, her ears hearing cAily tttre words that had just been spoken: “ATI his life he’s been controlled, not in control. All ills life feels done an other'* .-will, not his own. '.Bronoffsky is—is just what you see, m t^-st-rate second fiddle!” So that was all she was. or could ebev hope to be—a second fiddle. Suddenly, now, Kate Denny became conscious of the music from the plat form, it hajl dropped to pianissimo, yet clcariy, sweetly, the melody still ran through it like a silver thread. Fainter ;and yet more faint it grew, until only an airy, swaying cobweb of sound floated from the leader's baton. There .was a moment’s Breathless hush, then .deafening applause.. In seat Kate Denny relaxed suddenly. With the strains of that perfect music still In her .ears, she declared to her self that only pelflshness, pure selfish ness. had made her rebel at getting Edith's breakfast, washing dishes, aud .eating Edith's bison it centers: and . only selfish ness *,guiw had grudged Edith the sleigh-ride with John Kenniaoo .that afternoon. . was not, indeed,, .exactly a new course of reasoning for Kate Denny to pursue. Nhe had argued along the game lines toefore. But tonight, especially, still euder the sway of those marvelously attended harmonies, ohe could see noth ing but well-deserved ifallure for any Moond fiddle who attempted to Ills <own Individuality. Owe by one the days esune and To Edith and her mother -.they seemed not wnlike many other days long passed. To Kate Denny they were hardly dissimilar, except, perhaps, for the growing frequency of John Kenni son’s visits. Not that she herself saw so much at ihim, but that she knew he wus there, said that his presence began to meqn so much to her that she was frightened. Very conscientiously these days Denny was leaving to Edith the crisp mown of the biscuits, and the j five attentions of John Kennison— voth of which Edith claimed as her -ight, janyway: “There were times, ae Bilie, when Kate almost when (she declared to herself that it j rtu * UJt » u 'uiige, or unwomanly, or even selfish that she should not like always to be doing the drudgery, or always to be giving up her will about every little matter, or always to be handing over to another woman the flowers, drives, calls, and candy that seemed originally intended for herself. But Invariably, even though Inwardly she did rebel, outwardly she was still the self-sacrificing, self-effacing sister, As it chanced, it was after a day of this Inward rebellion that Kate Denny vfent once again with her family to a 1 concert by the Philharmonic. There was the same anticipatory hum and stir in the audience, but on the stage— i on the stage, even Kate could see that something unusual had happened, or was about to happen. One by one the musicians Were taking their places, hut not in the quiet, orderly way that was customary. They were plainly hurried, nervous, excited. One stum bled against a music-rack, and another dropped his bow to the floor. Some talked earnestly together ; others sut silently apart, an odd look almost like disdain on their faces. Bronoffsky, for whom Kate looked at once, was no where to be seen. She was wondering at this, when unexpectedly John Ken nison appeared In the aisle by her seat. "I came down a minute to tell you,” he began excitedly in a low voice. “Last night Rossi—the leader, you thrown out of his auto and hurt rather badly. Kepple, the concert master, was with him, and he was knocked out, too, for tonight. And do you think—? Itossl sent word that Bronoffsky - Bronoffsky should conduct tonight!” it Who’s Bron — Bron — what’s his demanded Edith, pettishly. And Kate, to whom John Kennison's words had been addressed, for once jrejolced ioddly stirred In her sister’s she Interposition, herself at John so was [Kennison’s words. “Why, he's one of the second violins, hecend !*‘tan, violins,” repeated Kennlson, long-haired chap with big black oyes. You’ll remember when you aee jhfm. I must go, but I wanted to tell you,'' hurried ^he man, turning again to Kate, “something's going to happen, %ut (putting Just what, I don't know. He’s been us through our paces all the morning, 'back and—well, you’ll aee,” flung Kennlson as he hurried away. Five minutes later the orchestra Were all In their places; then from the wings stepped a tall, durk-halred man, and Kate Denny's heart gave a heavy, suffocating throb. A patter of hanfl clapping greeted the man’s appearance, but almost instantly died Into silence— the claps had been intended for Rossi —and this man was not Rossi. Kate Denny, watching him with suspended breath, wondered If ’he cared. Tne man himself did not look as If he cared, or as if he even heard. With head and shoulders erect he was mak ing for the stand. His face was whltu, and his jaw firm-set; but there was that in his eyes that caused the girl to I glow suddenly as with hidden fire. ) For a tense instant ’ Bronoffsky , mo I tionless upon his stand, faced his. | orchestra; then slowly he raised his baton. True to John Kennison’s prophecy, something did happen that evening. The orchestra knew that never before had they played as they were playing now—with such passion, such power, such a oneness «f purpose. The audience knew only that before had they heard forty instru ments sound so exactly as one. The critics—-between the numbers the critics talked enthusiastically of the new leader who had that night been born. From their lips dropped learned phrases: He did not over drive his orchestra; he sought no urc due din of brass and drum; he was careful of the quality as well as the quantity of tone; he had balance, poise, power; be ordered the pace of his music Judiciously, and he moulded its phrases with a masterly hand. And yet—neither orchestra nor au dience nor learned critics were quite so much moved as was a certain young woman in an orchestra chair nine rows from tlie front. Her head was erect, tier eyes were shining like stars, and her mouth was eCrted in a smile tlmt some way seemed to carry an elation all out of proportion to any cause. For, had you asked her, she would have said that it was all because of one I.cyn Bronoffsky, second .violinist, who that night had led the orchestra. For Edith Denny that evening there came two surprises. One surprise wag when she found herself unaccountably walking out of tile concert hall with her mother, while ahead Kate and John Kennison walked together. The second surprise! came later, when Kate, nearly ready for bed.’aiF peared nt the connect!*,g, door between their rooms. , "Edith,” iiegan Kate /Cheerfully, ‘’I’m going to close this door tonight. I want my window open, .and you don’t, you know; so If I close the door we’ll Ihotli be satisfied. Goodnight.' And she shut the door. Kor one amazed instant Edith stood and stared at the closed door; then abe darted forward, her hand reaching far -the knob. “Why, Kate, what are you thinking of, when you know I never sleep with out that door open,” she cried. Tbe next moment she fell back weakly— the door was locked. "Why, Kate!” There was no answer, but a moment later there came from Kate’s room n little tremulous melody that sounded for all the world like the whistle of a I small boy who Is trying to keep op his courage In the dark, Long after Edith had gone petu lantly to bed, the melody still haunted her, hut she could not place It, until suddenly she recollected it’ was the opening phrase of the overture that the orchestra had played flrst that iflght under the new lender’s directing, jr.; i -T ; TtTTy^ i T it T »mzxxiiitrx xxxxzxxr xr 8 A FOUR FOOTED H FAITH AND A TWO « ", * , jj In Which the Love of a Dog Far Outshines That of a < Master, Who Doesn't Deserve the Title. J PORTER * J By ELEANOR Author of " Pollyanna, »* «« Just David,” Etc. TX 7 ITH neat celerity Miss B. put * * the tiny rooms in order, and then went out into the store to “open tip." It was seven o'clock, and Hayden't Notion Store always opened at seven. As usual this morning Miss B. left* the outer door wide open while she re moved the dust-cloth from the counter, and patted ihto precision the cards of hooks-and-eyes In their orderly rows of boxes. The act was symbolical of her whole life—always had Miss B. patted Into precision any Irregular hopes, ambitions, or experiences that had ever dared to obtrude a corner Into her habit-smoothed existence. - She turned now complacently to view her work—and confronted a man: a disorderly looking man who had stumbled through the doorwny. und who was gazing at her now with the eyes of a hunted animal at bay. For Owl's sake—don’t give me awayhe begged. The next moment he had dashed by her and dropped out of sight behind the counter. The woman caught her breath and rubbed her eyes dazedly. She was sure she was dreaming. There could not be a man, really, behind that counter— her counter! Outside a swarm of men and boys headed by two policemen swept into the street and broke Into Irresolute little groups. Then one of the officers darkened her doorway. You didn't see a big, dark haired chap, runnIn’, did ye?" he panted. "Bill thought he’d made fur this door way. He might ha’ slipped In when yer back was turned, ye know. If ye don’t mind, we’ll look." And he strode across the room, leaving his colleague to guard the door. It was then that the extraordinary happened : Miss B. deliberately turned and walked behind her counter; and when she had taken up her position her skirts entirely screened the hiding man. s The blinding was a small one. It comprised the store, with a bedroom, bathroom and living-room behind ft, and a wide, unfinished room above where wiere a few surplus goods, j trunks and boxes. A search In this limited area naturally could not be of long duration ; and the officer was soon back in the store. You’re off, BUI,” he growled. “He ain’t here. Thank ye, ma’am,” he nodded toward the woman behind the counter. The next moment the (Joor banged shut, and tlie gesticulating men and boys took themselves noisily out of sight. In the store the woman backed hur rietily away from her jwsitlon. All the bravery bad fled from her manner, She stood white and trembling, wait Ing. There — was a moment’s silence, then from the shadows peered a man's face. They gone?” Yes. Tlie man gazed at her curiously; then his eyes softened. “See here, little woman, you sure was game,” he murmured. "But—why did you do it?’ Tlie woman shook her head. “I—don’t—know,” she stammered. «» You don’t know?” Again she shook her head. - Y'our eyes—they looked somehow like—Bobby’s,” she faltered. The man smiled. “I’m sure I’m much obliged to— Bobby, he said gravely. "You see, there was a dog after him, just like those men were after you, • < explained the woman, hurriedly; “and lie run to me for protection Just as you d!d. I kept him then almost u year.” "You kept him!” “Yes. Then he died. He’d got to be* a real big cat then, though. •• “Oh-h !” murmured the man. “Oh-h !” And he was such a good cat I He always—sh-h—be careful!” Tlie warning was scarcely needed, for tlie man, too, had heard the step at the street door, and had drawn hack hustlly.„................ X .......... ■ ___________ The customer was a woman. She said she wanted a spool of number sixty thread; but A spent Just one, minute buying that—and ten minutes talking about the recent excitement. Not that she knew who the fugitive was, or what he had done. “You aee,” shivered Miss B., tremu lously addressing the dark corner a moment later, “you’ll really have to go—man!” Two repneachful eyes look«d out at lier. But, my d«ar lady. I’ve just come.” But they’re looking tor you—every where I ■ • "They are—Uke doge, for my life.” It was a trial toot, but It hit the mark. Miss B. winced visibly. "You see, if I oould Just eemp here till dark," went on the men softly, hurrying to follow up his advantage. "Till dark—here! No, no!” shud dered the woman. -of course not. here, under the counter,” agreed the man, crawling from his hiding-place and rising to his “but In there—'behind the store, Sure, little woman, you ain’t goln’ *“ | ek on be—now!” But I must! You couldn't! You— cun!” she broke off frenzledly. leaping fiw to the door that led to ihe rear room and throwing it wide open. A moment later she stood shaking, alone, her hack against the closed door. Then the street door opened and a woman entered. “Why, land o’ love, Miss B., don't Jump so. It’s only me,” laughed the newcomer. "Did ye think It was the man they’re chasin’? He’S gone ages ago, i'll warrant ,ve. Ray, I want some black elnstlc—the round kind. Got any?” "Yes," said Miss B, faintly, as she forced her shaking limbs to carry her to the elastic-box behind the counter. ter. Trade was good at Hayden’s Notion that morning. The rush of cus gossip—gave Miss B. no Indeed, to attend to that fear secret behind her living-room noon; Then she managed timidly to open tite door and peer into the little room. At once she stepped In side and shut the door very quickly, her eyes wide with surprise and terror. The man stood before the stove scrambling eggs. The table was neat ly set for two, and the room smelt pleasantly of coffee and baked pota toes. “Getting hungry?” smiled the man. “It's 'most ready. I thought you'd be cornin' In now. Miss B. molstPned her dry lips and tried to speak, but no sound cam*. 11 If you’ll Just sit down,” suggested the man, cheerfully, motioning her toward the nearer chair. The woman shook her head. This time she spoke, but her words were 7 y Y '4 Wa m 5 L -s; 7 i t \ t * “You Didn't See • Big, Dark-Haired Chap Runnln', bid Yer not at all what she had supposed they would be. “It’s broken—that chair.” “Not much it Is!” laughed the roan, whisking the chair bottom side up. “I mended it—sec. Now try it,” he or dered a moment later. The afternoon was but a repetition of the forenoon except that now Miss B. utterly refused to discuss the morn ing’s excitement with one of the daw dling shoppers. At live o’clock she found an opportunity to open the liv ing-room door and toss the evening paper, which had just come, on to the table. She had not read the paper, but she had seen that there were huge blpek headlines. She could imagine what those headlines said. At six o’clock Miss B., with a sigh of relief, closed and locked the store. In the living-room only silence and exqulRlte order greeted her. Even the newspaper was gone, and the man was no where. totmsew, - ..................................—r— “WtimT are you?” called Miss B. sharply. There was no answer. With heightened color and com pressed lips Mjfs B. crossed the floor to her bedroom door. If he had dared— But he had not dared, apparently. The room was exactly as she had left it that morning. Miss B. turned then her steps toward the stairway that led to the unfinished storeroom above. At the top she paused, and peered into the shadowy room before her. On the floor lay the proatrate figure of a man. A loose board under her feet cracked sharply, and the man sprang half up right. At the sheer terror that leaped to his eyes Miss B. shuddered and drew back. “You needn’t fear. ,It’s only I,” she faltered timidly—and site had meant to be so stern! The man, too, shuddered. “I must have dropped asleep—a minute,” he muttered. “I thought—” He did not finish his sentence, and after a moment the woman spoke again, unsteadily. “t’ome; you must have something to eat—before you go.” And she led the way down thejdnlrs.