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Show A Splendid Studio -All but the View Wearily tho girl climbed tho long, dirty flight of stairs. It nmtlo the twenty-third (light that she had mounted that day, nnd her back ached and her brain was dizzy and her heart was sick. "Vorlly," she sighed, "they clmrgo moro for a hole In tho celling than for a whole house." For tho girl was looking for a skylight, sky-light, and any person who has ever searched Now York for a skylight studio knows that tho Pilgrim's Progress Prog-ress or tho hunt for tho Golden Fleece was n more summer's pastime beside such a task. Tho Janltress Hung open the door ot the back room and tho girl's eyes danced with joy. Hero It was at last Just what bIio had been looking for "A big, bright room, long enough tc swing a .Mexican hammock across with n largo old-fashioned fireplace on ono sldo nnd a beautiful skylight In Its colling, through which the north' crn light showed clear and white. -jj"0, Joy! O, happiness!" exclaimed tho girl, running to the huge old fashioned windows nnd Hinging them up and then she stopped short; for tho sight that met her gaze fell like n blow upon tho artistic toniporuiiicnt, to say nothing of tho human eye. Iilno after line of common, everyday washing stretched In an unending Vista beforo her horrified gaze, and abovo and behind tho "snow of dripping drip-ping garments loomed the hideous rear wall of un ugly tenement. Tho girl stood still and reflected for n moment. mo-ment. "I knew," sho murmured, "there must bo something tho matter with it at that prlco." Then her eye wandered wan-dered back to tho skylight and the fireplace and sho foil. "O, well, they only wash on Mondays," Mon-days," sho decided, as she signed the lease. Hut to her consternation sho discovered discov-ered a week later that pcoplo who llvo In tenements wnsh every day Judging Judg-ing by the frosh productions dally. Each morning tho girl nroso to face a lino of vcrmllllon blankets, or a row of baby frocks. Her soul shrank at tho thought of Inviting a friend to view this hideous background and graduully her Inspiration Inspira-tion hecamo dulled. Tho pictures In her brain resolved themselves Into overalls and cotton sheets. Then a great Idea camo to her and she hied herself to a shop whore thoy Hull u wonderful transparent paper which you paste on your window giving It the effect of stained glass. Gayly sho hurried, homo with a St. Cecilia window win-dow In ono hand and a Kcmbrnudt In tho other. Tho result was glorious. Sho worked nil that evening, urn! tho next morning when she opened her eyes tho sun was sifting through In pink and yellow rays and Instead of tho horrible tenement "wash" St. Cecilia and tho Kcmbrnndt (lgurc smiled upon her encouragingly. Then sho bought somo palo yellow silk and hung It In simple folds across tho upper panes of her windows. Over this and falling to the floor at either Hide sho draped soft rich curtains; nnu on top or tno wnoio sue mid thick green shades adjusted. "Now," sho declared defiantly, "not even Peeping Tom could see through that!" And then sho Invited her entire en-tire coterie of friends to her house-warming. house-warming. They camo to see and remained to envy. Never, thoy declared, had thoro been such a gem of a studio, such an Ideal place In which to droam and work and mako merry. How had tho girl found It? And how could sho uf-ford uf-ford It? The girl chuckled to horself and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. It was a great hour of triumph. A wealthy connoisseur was present, also a rich woman, who might possibly order or-der n portrait. Tho tea-kottlo bubbled merrily ami tho pink and yellow lights tilled the placo with mystic beauty. Tho girl lifted tho old sllvor teapot to pour tlm wealthy connoisseur n second sec-ond cup. Suddenly tho harsh Jangle of a lire engine rung out on tho air. lSvorybody sat up and listened. Nenrei and nearer came tho clanging hell Tho studio babble stopped. It seemed that tho engine stopped almost undci tho girl's window. There was a ma-ment ma-ment of excltod hubbub. The wealthy connoisseur rushed over and flung open n window and craned his neck. Tho girl sank weak and helpless on a divan. "What Is It? Whore Is It?" cried tho excited guests, crowding toward tho open pano. "It's a snowstorm, not a llro," ro marked tho wealthy connoisseur drawing his head In. "It's been snorting snort-ing pajamas, I think." And the lire, half a block away, was . forgotten us the disillusioned guostf gazed blankly upon tho unending rows of McOrndy llanuels nnd Ilium-stoln Ilium-stoln nightgowns. Next morning as tho girl awoke It seemed as though St. Cecilia grinned ut her maliciously and tho Itembrandt person actually leered. Onco more tho big studio is for ront, and tho girl Is ensconced in a tiny box of a room with ono window that opens on Washington square. Her knees and sides are bruised from bumiilng against her furniture in this two-by-four compartment and her hummock sits dlconsolately In a corner, cor-ner, but hor artlstlo temperament Is rccovorlng and has begun to sit up and take notice |
