Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 198, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 August 1918 — At Catalpa Villa [ARTICLE]

At Catalpa Villa

By CLARISSA MACKIE

(Copyright, 1918, by the McClure NewspapsT Syndicate.) ’ Catalpa Villa was the shabbiest of the long row of shabby suburban houses on the dusty street A line of dwarf poplars edged the sidewalks where children played all day long, and the wind quivered among the leaves as a slight breeze wandered down the neglected street. In .the front window of Catalpa Villa whs a black and gold sign. “Furnished Rooms to Rent,” it read. Felix Dare alighted from a car at the corner and walked slowly down the street, studying the little painted signs over the doors. These signs were misleading enough. For Instance, GreenlaWn was quite guiltless of grass in its grubby front yard, Hope Cottage bore a quite hopeless aspect and Rose Arbor bowed its head beneath the weight of a worminfested rambler rose bush which had long since ceased to bloom. Then came Catalpa Villa, named for the decrepit catalpa tree that graced its little strip of ragged lawn. Felix paused In front of Catalpa Villa, set down his bag and violin case, and studied a little notebook. Then resuming his burdens he went up the flagged walk to the front door. A flat-chested, grlmy-pawed woman admitted him to a stuffy little hall. “Mrs. Beals?” asked Felix ly“That’s my name, she replied suspiciously. t Felix smiled. “I met your son, Daniel Beals, when I was in Chicago, and he recommended his mother’s home as an excellent boarding place. I was hoping you had a room for me.” He did not add that Dan Beals was drinking himself to death in the big city, and that Felix’s coming to board In this shabby suburb was prompted by a vague .feeling of pity for Dan’s mother. “That’s another matter,” commenced Mrs. Beals briskly. “It’s the first sensible thing I ever knew Dan Beals to do in all his worthless life —but it’s like his father —keen at hunting up work for me! I’ve got a front room, bay window, new carpet last winter, best bed you ever slept on. Want to see it?” “If you please!” Felix followed his prospective landlady up the narrow stairs. When they reached the top, some one opened a lower door and a sweet voice floated up. “Mrs. Beals, you are wanted at the telephone.” “Tm coming. Just you wait, Mr. Dare, and I’ll send the girl to show you the room. It’s three-fifty a week without board; if you eat here it will cost you eight altogether. Annabelle 1” Mrs. Beals ran down the stairs with astonishing agility and addressed the unseen Annabelle. “Go upstairs and show that gentleman the front room. He can come right in if he wants to —you can get it ready in half an hour. Hurry now and don’t stand staring at me so impudently!” A door slammed after Mrs. Beals’ retreating form. Then light steps sounded onthe stairs and presently a girl joined Felix In the upper hall. Felix stared at her, for Mrs. Beals had the most amazingly pretty maid servant in the world —and she didn’t look a bit like a maid servant; she was a lady from the smooth braids of her coroneted hair to the soles of her neat little black slippers. She wore a print gown of blue and a spotless white apron. “You wished to look at a room?” she asked haughtily. “I beg your pardon—yes!” cried Felx, passing a hand before his dazed eyes. " Annabelle led the way into a dingy front bedroom that gave every evidence of being occupied, perhaps, between the flirtings .of boarders, by Mrs. Beals, herself. The bed was carelessly made, sundry middle-aged feminine garments graced the chairs, and on the bureau was a grizzled false “front,” whose rightful place was undoubtedly atop of Mrs. Beals’ head. “This is the room,” said the girl Indifferently. “But—bat It is occupied," hesitated Felix. “Mrs. Beals has been sleeping here, but it can be prepared for you within an hour,” replied Annabelle. “I hardly think,” began Felix, and then he thought of his promise to Dan Beals —Dan had been a newspaper reporter, and Felix had liked the brilliant, dissolute youth; if in any way he could help Dan by stopping with Dan’s mother he would have a try at it “I will bring my things up now,” he said to Annabelle, who was ing up Mrs. Beals’ garments. When Felix came into the room with his bag and violin case the girl uttered a little startled cry. “You play?” she asked quickly. He smiled and nodded. ‘T am in the orchestra of the Excelsior theater.” v . ' “Not—not the new leader, Felix Dame?” she breathed eagerly. “Yes,* he answered in a surprised tone. “But—what are you doing here —at Catalpa Villa? Who would stop in such— ugly shabbiness unless it was absolutely necessary, and it cannot be that with you I I have heard about you, and when I read that you were

going to give lessons to a privileged few I—I—” The voice of the little servant broke. “You play? You?” he asked amazed. She nodded sorrowfully. “I came here from Vermont to study—l had a sum of money to pay expenses—l was obliged to break into it to pay for an Illness, and I came at last to board here—theft I got behind with my board and she—Mrs. Beals—seized my violin, and I am working out what I owe her. It Is a weary task paying bld scores and trying to pay current expenses.” “You poor child,” said Felix simply. “You have stopped the lessons?” he asked. “Long ago.” “Who was your teacher?” “Benzeet.” “Adolph Benzeet? Then you must possess unusual talent or he would not have bothered! I am sorry, Miss Annabelle.'” “Thank you,” she said gratefully, “and now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Dare. I will return to my duties and prepare your room. My work has alw’ays been below stairs, in the kitchen, but the chambermaid left this morning and we are short of help and I must hasten—we have supper at 6.” As Felix left the room Mrs. Beals poked her head through the balusters. “You, Annabelle!” she called. “Have that room ready in half an hour —the man has brought the fish for supper and the table isn’t even set!” She nodded sourly at the new boarder as he came down the stairs. “Lazy thing, that girl,” she muttered for his benefit. “Doesn’t want to do a thing except fiddle, fiddle, all day long! Fiddling don’t earn good money, so say I!" “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Mrs. Beals,” returned Felix mischievously. “I forgot to tell you that I’m in the Excelsior orchestra.” Mrs. Beals eybd him suspiciously. “I don’t know as I mentioned that Td like my board in Advance." “Certainly,” agreed Felix drawing out his pocketbook. Mrs. Beals ' greedily counted the money and when the transaction was concluded, she asked. “My stepson didn’t send me any money by you, did he?”

Felix smiled. He could not tell her that Dan Beals owed him S2OO. “So Dan is not your own son?” was all he asked. “I should hope not,” she cried devoutly. “I was a childless wldder when I married Dan’s pa and that boy has been the plague of my life. Make yourself free of the parlor, Mr. Dare.” Felix,threw himself in a chair in the stuffy little room in which each separate article appeared to quarrel with the other. If Mrs. Beals was not the own mother of the unfortunate Dan, Felix did not feel any responsibility concerning her welfare. Mrs. Beals appeared to be fully able to take care of herself. “One week will do me,” sighed Felix as he took out a newspaper and began to read. Rut a face came between him and the printed page—the wistful face of Annabelle. “I wonder when she will have paid her debt?” he mused. Then an odor of frying fish insinuated itself through the house and the advent of sundry tired and shabby looking men and women, who found a home here after a hard day’s work in store or factory, told him that Annabelle had left his room ready for his occupancy and that she was at her post of duty downstairs. Four weeks passed and found Felix Dare still an occupant of Mrs. deals’ front room. While Annabelle marveled that an artist like Dare should be content in that sordid at-, mosphere, she was glad that he remained. Wonderful music came from his room. Dreamy strains wafted up to Annabelle’s attic room, and after awhile she learned to translate their meaning. He was playing to her! Felix Dare’s wooing covered a period of many weeks, but he did not give verbal utterance to his love until one day after Annabelle had paid off her debt and moved away.

Then he went to see her in her new boarding place far from Catalpa Villa; and In the stiff parlor of this new temporary home he told her the most wonderful story in the world. The following Sunday evening they went for a trolley ride, and Felix stopped the car at a shabby street and led Annabelle past Catalpa Villa. The moon was shining on the lonely catalpa tree, on the hopelessness of Hope Cottage and the brownness of Greenlawn. ' ■< . ■ . , “Catalpa Villa is a beautiful spot,” said Felix seriously. “It will always be Beautiful in my sight, dear—guess why?” “Because we met there and because Love transforms all that is ugly and sordid,” whispered Annabelle.