Heart's Desire
rier, caused Trouble wit
side of the bed and withdrew from under the blankets the bit of gutta-percha which Curly had noticed him conceal. He adjusted the record in the machine and sprung the catch. The
ny passing emotion. Tom Osby's face perhaps looked even harder than usual, as he sat there listening, his unlit pipe clenched hard between his hands. Truant to his trusts, forgetful of the box of candy which regularly he brought down from
sang of a Face that was the Fa
proached Tom Osby's cabin. He had forgotten his supper. Dinner was done, in
savvy. That fellow's in love! He's i
, and we others followed his example, going into a committee of
did you get a chance to see the name on the r
e brand, owin' to Tom's cuttin' out the thing so sud
I thought I rather recogniz
d McKinney
e Dagoized before they can learn to sing right good and strong, you know. They frequent learn a heap of things besides 'Annie Laurie'-and besides singin'. Oh,
our or five different husbands with that voice of hers; and that same 'Annie Laurie' song was largely responsible. Now,
natelli? Does he see her show her teeth and bat her eyes when she's fetchin' one of them han
about do," said McKinney. "T
id Curly to McKinney. "
lone. Listen. What does Tom Osby see in that horn that he's lookin' into? I'll tell you. He sees a plumb angel in white clothes and a blue sa
t right!" sa
usk of the evening. "The girl's got to have on white. There ain't no man can ho
ne out into the country after a load of wood, like enough; old lady's gone to bed,
" said Learned Counsel, h
ew York," said M
id Curly, calmly; "it
as sayin', the birds was just twitterin' in the evergreen trees along the front walk, some sleepy, because it was just gettin' right dark. Vines, you know, hangin' over the edge of the front porch, like. Few chairs settin
a, up and down the keys of the piano her dad gave her when she graduated. And now she's sort of singin' to herself-half whisperin', soft and deep-I hate a thin-voiced woman, or a bad-tempered one, same as you do-she's just singin' about a
tation!"
ation!" sa
on!" said Lea
t moment. To be sure, the ev
o reason, only it's got to be a woman to sing that man's song of 'Annie Laurie.' A man couldn't any more sing 'Annie Laurie' than you could make cocktails without bitters. The only w
d longing with a cherry at the bottom of it. Thanks to Tom Osby, we have Art! We are not quite provincial. Listen at Madame Donatelli tearin' it off in there! . . . Shoot him up, boys!" he cried suddenly. "I'm damned if I'm going to
he thick walls, until at length that worthy came out annoy
said he. "You migh
all night. Besides, the price of the box seats is exorbitan
straggled on up the long, deserted street of Heart's Desire. Dan Anderson turned i
to lead Tom Osby aside. "Did you know, Tom," said he, "that that opera singer you've got in y
-nd ga-aze-ll-lle!" beg
it's
fully. "Comin' down here? Why, don't it sa
they
"ain't never comin' within a thousand miles of this he
ow that song will be just what it is to-day. That's Art. But I'm tellin' you the truth, Tom. The woman who sang into that machine is alive to-day. She belongs to a grand opera troupe under th
and the unjust in the matter of railroad fares. Now, as they are still goin' to be too early for the season on the coast, Monsieur Blauring has conceived in his fertile brain the idea that it will be an interestin' and inexpensive th
w she'll be the
Blauring thinks it's advertising so they're both happy. And this very lady who sang i
miles or so distant by wagon trail. "It ain't so," said Tom, at length.
l about a bull-fight, anyway. Yes," he went on softly, "I hope they'll sing 'Carmen' over there. I hope, also, they won't see the name on the Guggenheim smelters and undertake
old Blauring, he goes on in advance and rides a little sign out near 'Frisco and other places, where Art is patronized copious. Yes,
n I think you ain't, quite. The man who allows he's any better tha
derson. "Don't eve
aces, and have lived different ways. Me, I come from Georgy. I never did have much chanct for edi
ttle schooling, but the only schooling I ever had in all my life that was worth wh
than a hundred miles south next week to see if you can get a look at that 'Annie Laurie' woman-it's becau
was her name, and she had naturally a wonderful voice. She went to Paris and Italy to study long before I came out
ld think about thirty-five," said Dan Anderson.
rty-five," said To
came from
" observed Tom
bled. His horizon was
," said he; "i
," said Tom, not wholly understandi
d Dan Ander
ague, never formulated, never admitted friendship of
here song right out-herself singin', words and all-fiddles, like enough;
om
of the folks that can't do things for keeps. Some fellers has to just drive teams, or run a ore bucket, or play the cards, or something els
ings that keep. That sort ain
nt on the freighter. "It sounded like there w
maybe sta
right there at the pianny herself. Can't you see her?
"No, I can't imagine things. That
things. Now, there she's settin', right at the pian
loo-loo-la-la?" s
oes she sing? That song about Gingerbread? That Mobile song? No, not none. It's 'Annie Laurie' she sings, man, it's
, irrelevantly; "and when she breathes she'll swell up like a
, "there's times whe
the lace. I'll even l
d Tom Osby, wagging his forefing
a blue
t my own share of things that's for keeps, though I ain't one of
you said, it's only a few days' drive, after all. I'm
are l
he foot of the Sacramentos. Now, you may have noticed that sometimes a fellow ought to cover up his tracks. What's to hinder you and me just takin' a little pasear down in toward the Sacrame
but it's the right of every man to try. Every once in a while, by just tryin' and pluggin' along on the dead square, a fellow gets so
ou'll g
! Yes, I'l
over him, he paced up and down the narrow, cagelike room. Presently he approached a tiny mirror that hung upon the wall, and stood looking
had given to Tom Osby. In brief, there was a paragraph which announced the arrival in town of Mr. John Ellsworth, President of the new A. P. and S. E. Railway, his legal counsel, Mr. Porter Barkley, also of New York
on to himself, over and over again.