Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1904 — Sequel to the Measles [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Sequel to the Measles

By HARRIET C. CANFIELD

OopyrttfM. im. by M. Wood

Kitty stood at Miss Tremont’s door, smiling broadly: “Here’s a note, ma’am,” she said, holding out a piece of newspaper scribbled along the margin. “The little feller on the second floor said I should give It to you. He’s Just gettin’ over the measles an’ awful lonesome. It’s written on the bias like, ma'am.” “Poor little man!” Miss Treinont said sympathetically. "I don’t seem to remember him, Kitty.” “No’m; they Just moved In this week, an’ they’ve kept quiet like—there’s no one but the little feller an’ his uncle. ■He paints women’s heads—mostly redheaded ones—ln their back parlor, but he's out today, an’ I’m getting paid for lookin’ out for Jimmie—that’s his name, ma’am.” Miss Tremont read the note and smiled. "Tell him I’ll, be there soon, Kitty," she said. Jimmie's note was short and phonetically spelled. “Deer Miss Treemont,” It said, “I wish you wood plees come down and see me. My eyes are week, and Kitty only noes ’bout Cinderella. So no more from your yung trend, Jimmie B.” When Miss Tremont knocked at her little neighbor’s door an eager, boyish voice called out, "Come right in!” Jimmie was sitting up in bed, supported by many pillows. He was very thin and weak—“all eyes and beak, like a young robin,” Kitty said. “Shake!” he said, holding out a thin little hand. “I can’t give ’em to you now—the measles, I mean. It’s first class of you to come. Kitty thought you would. Sit down, won’t you? It’s pretty dark In here—'count of my eyes —but I can see you’re awful pretty.” Miss Tremont laughed and drew a chair close to the bed. “Thank you,” ahe said brightly. “Did Kitty suggest that you send for me?” “No. But It’s too dark in here to read, an’ Kitty just knew one story, an’ after I’d heard that three times she said maybe Miss Tremont could tell me some. An’ I asked her would she go for you. You can tell me anything you want to. I’m specially int’rested In bears an’ Indians an’ cannibals.” Miss Tremont laughed again and leaned back in the easy chair in pleasant anticipation. She had frequently told stories to an appreciative audience In her sister’s nursery, when eager little faces sought hers in breathless expectation and eager little voices pleaded for “Just one more, please—’bout Indians!” It was a pleasure to bear this weary Uttle soul away on the wings of her

Imagination—away from the second floor bedroom And the measles. Together they roamed tbs plains with the rid men, climbed trees with the black besn and were cast away on cannibal Islands, where only living skeletons were safe. Neither Miss Tremont nor bar delighted little bearer was conscious of the passage of time. “And the Uttle cob climbed a persimmon tree and escaped from the hunter,” she was saying when the clock' struck. “Was It 4 or 5?” she said. Jimmie sighed and came back to everyday life and the measles. “I don’t know,” he said. “You can look an’ see, If you'd like to."

Miss Tremont went Into the back parlor, and presently Jimmie heard a startled exclamation. “Is It so late?” he called. She came back and stood by his bed. “I—l—didn’t look at tbe clock,” she stammered. “There was a picture on the easel—the paint was fresh—it was a picture of—who painted it. Jimmie?” “Uncle Hal, I suppose.” lie said languidly. 1 Mctnres' were not as interesting as cannibals. But Miss Tremont seemed to think that they were. “It’s a woman’s picture, isn’t it?" he said politely. “Uncle Hal said he was working on a stunner. He didn’t just call It a stunner, but it meant the same—his ‘masterpiece,’ I believe he said. Has she got red hair? Not bright red, but a dark brownish kind, like yours? Most all Uncle Hal’s pictures have red hair. Kitty says she guesses red paint comes cheaper. Uncle Hal calls it ‘auburn.’ ” Miss Tremont’s face flushed and the

White lids curtained her telltxte eyes. * Uncle Hal,’ did you say?” she asked softly. “Once upon s time," she continued, to the delight of Jimmie, who thought the words profaedt another story, “I had a friend—an artist—whoso name waa Hal.” “Haven’t you got him yet?" Jimmie asked. “No. I sent him away—l didn’t know how dear be waa to me—l wouldn’t do It now, Jimmie—and he was”— “Eaten by cannibals?” Jimmie Interrupted In an awestruck voice. Miss Tremont smiled and looked up. A tall young man, with fine eyes, waa standing In the doorway, looking at them. “Uncle Hal!” Jimmie cried. “Uncle Hal, here’s Miss Tremont. She came in to”— But, to Jimmie’s surprise, Uncle Hal bad crossed the room and waa holding Miss Tremont’s hands in his. “Kate,” he said. “Kate, dear, will you forgive me for listening to what you said to Jimmie? Your words have made me very happy, dear.” Jimmie wondered what it was that had pleased Uncle Hal so much—the bears or the Indians or the cannibals. “I’ll bet it was the cannibal story,” he said to himself. “She’s a Jim Dandy at 'em!” “Will you forgive me for listening?” Uncle Hal said again. “Why not?” Miss Tremont asked softly—so softly that Jimmie barely heard her. “It was true, Hal.” Jimmie’s eyes opened wide. “Cannibals and all?” be said. But Miss Tremont didn’t bear him. Uncle Hal was talking to her again. He coughed once or twice, but they didn’t notice him. “You’ll have to apeak a little louder,” he said at last, “if you want me to hear.” Miss Tremont’s face grew very pink, and Uncle Hal laughed aloud. “Never mind, Jimmie boy,” he said, “I’ve been persuading Miss Tremont to adopt you—you’ll like that, old fellow?” “Like it?” Jimmie shouted for joy. Then a sudden doubt assailed him. “Would you mind taking Uncle Hal, too, Miss Tremont?” he said anxiously. “We belong together.” Miss Tremont’s laughing eyes met the artist’s for a ipoment. “I understood,” she said demurely, “that he was to be thrown in.”

A TALL YOUNG MAN WAS STANDING IN THU DOORWAY.