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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE.
little girl — so large as my ear. She calls the lady 'muzzerf What is 'muzzer/ Papa?"
Jerome caught his breath sharply, and the pain in his heart grew suddenly unbearable. He caught the child up to his breast.
"It is something nice," Louis babbled on. "I would like a muzzer, I think. May I have one instead of the hobby-horse you promised 1116?"
Jerome choked back a groan.
"You have a mother, my son," he said gravely, "but she — she is a great way off, and, and you cannot have her, I am afraid."
A great way off ! Yes, that was true. Tho, so far as he knew, she might be at the very moment passing along the street by his door, she was as far away as tho the seas stretched between them.
But Louis was dancing witli joy.
"And she is pretty — pretty as the English muzzer?" he demanded.
"Pretty? Yes. Pretty as a flower/ ' Jerome half-whispered, and dreamy light came into his eyes.
"Show me how pretty !" the child ordered, and pushed his father towards his easel.
Well, why not? Before his vision swam a picture of warm red lips, and allurin
laughing eyes. Mechanically he began to block in the head and bust, while the child perched himself upon a stool, waiting patiently. Presently his curly head grew heavy, and Jerome tenderly placed him upon his cot, himself hurrying back to the portrait. Fair as a flower she was, and she should have flowers in her hands. Under his brush a great bunch of orchids took form. Xo, not orchids — they should smother — gorgeous as a painted woman. He scraped out the flowers, and paused, irresolute. Then qame to him a vision of her face when she first held the baby in her arms. The wonderful light of it, the light that, alas, had so soon fled ! — and with swift strokes he filled her arms with lilies.
A quick step sounded outside the door, and a moment later Leon burst joyously into the studio. With a warm glow at his heart, Jerome grasped the hand of his old friend.
"And what is the news, Leon?" Jerome asked, smilingly.
"Bah ! They have raised my rent a franc a month, that is all !" the Parisian shrugged. His roving eye fell upon the half -finished portrait. "You have seen her!" he exclaimed, then stared at the canvas in silent
admira ^KS^^ tion.
AT THE TOUCH OF .THE BEAUTIFUL, RINGLESS HAND HE WAS THRILLED.