Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1886-09-24
4 STORY OF BOURGEOIS.
by PAUL PAsTNER.

by PAUL FASTENER.
The editor Of the Summerville Daily
Meas snatched up his shears, cut a
column and-a-half story from city ex-
change, and sent it up-s stairs to Nina Kel-
sey to be set up in Bourgeois for the fourth
page of Saturdays Nears. Nina Kelsey
and lady companion, some 25 years her
senior, set all the padding" of the Nc,rs
the poetry, the literary excerpts, and the
stories. Nina set most of the stories. 1t
was some comfort to her young, romantic
nature to read them from the "copy."
as she worked at her case. Mrs. Sturdc-
want, her companion, had long passed the
age Of sentiment, and she liked to set the
poetry and the briefer extracts, because.
IN the language of the printing Office, this
was "phat matter" and with it's frequent
paragraphs, and indented lines made the
Thousand ems" 60 up faster. So both
were satisfied. If a story came up, it was
quietly pinned to Minas case, while the
poetry and scrappy extracts went into Mrs.
Stnrdeyants drawer.
Nina Kelsey was glad to get a story to-
day, because she was feeling lonesome. In
fact, she was suffering from fit of the
blues. Outside it was raining, and the
dingy windows OF the fourth story room
were all misty and dripping, and the gray
sky, just over the brick block across the
street, conld scarcely be seen for the fog
and the rain. 1t was SO doleful there with
Mrs. Sturdevant, who scarcely ever spoke a
word, except monosyllabic Eyes" or "no"
in answer to Mina's questions. So when
the little Office boy came up with
the copy, Nina thanked him gladly and
kept him prattling at her case for few
moments until the angry whistle of the fore.
man at the tube sent him rafting down the
rickety staircase. Then Nina turned to
begin her task. First she set her compos-
ing stick with piece of brass rule, SO to
be sure that it was the exact width of the
column. and then she mounted her stool
and took up the first letter of the title of
the story, "a Hopeless Quest" That was
good-something to wake her up. A smile
crept over the pretty lips. and she rapidly
finished the title and began to work out
the story paragraph by paragraph, enjoying
every sentence as she repeated it in the
clicking type. 1t was a strange story, too,
and fascinating. Nina gradually lost her
self in the thread of it, and once or twice
she reused with start to find that she was
reading faster than she ought, and had left
a bad "out" to be corrected in proof.
The story was about a young man, who,
after having wooed and won several charm
ing but heartless bellies, and having. for
tunately, learned his own heart before it
was too late to break off his engagements,
how at last be made vow that he would
not rest until he had found the ideal of his
heart-a noble, self-sacrifcing, pure, low
ing, lovely, and unassuming girl; zone who
could look man in the eye without coolly
specializing upon his marriage ability, and
who could accept his addresses, if agree
able. without scheming how to have loop
hole of escape in case his financial
prospects should not prove altogether
satisfactory" The story de-
.scribed the wanderings of the young
idealist: his lingering in public
places; the faces that he knew, and was at
tracted by, and what they turned out to
cover. Once or twice his quest seemed on
the point of being brought to a successful
close. but always something was found to
he lacking, and the object of his growing
aoye faded away in the ever-deepening mist
of distrust and despair, until at last the
story closed with passionate declaration:
1t is vain! All women are false and fair
and tickle. will turn to the friendship of
true-hearted man, and there seek the
Tenderness and helpfulness which I had
hoped to find in lovelier FORM"
1t was drawing toward dusk when Nina
finished The story, dropped in the last
period. and closed the line She laid down
her composing stick, and sat looking
thoughtfully out upon the gathering
shadows and the drifting rain. Her life,
too, had been SO far, almost ahopeless
quest. but oh! of how different kind!
Left carly in life, by the death of disso-
lutte and spendthrift father to support her
self and an invalid mother by her unaided
efforts, she had never known anything be-
yond the dull round of daily toll. OF the
romance of youth, the sunny freedom, the
hour. Of dream life and of pleasure, she
was sadly ignorant. And yet her nature
was rich in aspiration. She felt that she