Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1890-02-27
A PERFECT PLOT.

You're rather late. Stephen, said Mrs
Mostyn as her husband came into the dining
room one day just as she had finished break
fast, land / cannot stay with you, as l have
TO go OUT
go out! Why, you said last night you
were going to finish that china painting this
morning, though | really don't know why
You should work so hard. We are not in alb
solute penury."
'sNo; but it is pleasant making money in q
way one likes Besides, there will be some
to give away when we find we have toe
much ourselves. And how is your trade go
ing on."
''To tell the truth. not brilliantly. In fact
I am rather hung up for want of plot"
"a plotp'
"Yes; it is ridiculous | have short story
to write this week, and, though l have rather
neat set of characters and small incidents
ready, if you understand, a main idea is
wanting"
Dear me, that is unfortunate. Why don't
you 20 out for walk, or for half an hour in
the underground, or to the city on a bus, and
find one?'
my dear Millicent, what nonsense you
talk As if / were the least likely to find my
ideal plot that way No; must try and
worry it out myself somehow"
''Well, | must be off. Good-by, Stephen
take my advice-go and look for your ideal
in the real of life. l am sure you can find it
there"
After his wife had gone Stephen Mostyn
ate his breakfast and then sat musing little,
after which, springing out of his chair, he
said:
Il never felt less inclined to write in my
life! Really, l have good mind to follow
Milicent's advice and go out"
In few minutes he was standing on the
doorstep, deciding upon his next move.
''What beastly fog! l certainly shan't
lose much under ground, SO here goes for the
Metropolitan railway"
where forg" said the clerk sharply, as
Stephen stood vaguely in front of the ticket
Office.
"Oh, Whitechapel / should think that
leaves room for discovery" he thought to
himself
what class?"
''ThirdAbetter do it thoroughly. Now,
then, for trial trip between Kensington
and the Mile End road, to test Millicent's
theory"
A smallaboy with large, heavy parcel got
into the carriage with him, and spent some
moments in vainly trying to secure his bur
den more firmly, by means of knotty bit OF
string that crossed it here and there in pur-
poseless festoons. Mr.. Mostyn lending his
help, between them they made rather a neat
thing of it.
Adventure the first; ended, fear,' said
Stephen to himself II really can't ask him
how old he is and where he lives, and if he
thinks it healthy"
!'Templev'
Out tumbled the parcel and the boy, and
in walked an elderly young woman with a
fringe and an American cloth handbag. She
sat down opposite to Mr.. Mostyn, put both
her hands TO her head as if to make certain
1t was still in its place, opened her bag and
realizing that she had not lost her ticket,
looked at the window and sighed.
Not exactly ideal, but scarcely real, y
thought Stephen. do you feel the draught
from the Window be asked.
'1No, don't, thank you" with a well ar
ranged look of spiteful timidity, and chang
ing her seat TO one at the other end of the
carriage.
is this beginninggn thought Stephen.
.'Now should like to ask her if she thinks
nv life for thirty-five years has been work
in golden fog. in a third class Metropolitan
railway carriage, | wonder if it's any good
going on with this incidents Madam
''Sir, think this is Blackfriars Station!'
she said, whiskiug her head round as she
spoke, the end of her nose depriving the glass
of q very fine smut at the same time.
1T is not my business to tell her that she
is now still more attractive than when she
4 10,
bly, give me into custody if | did-Black-
friars! yes, it is. Do you get out here!"
YES, plunging at the door as she spoke.
"Ah,n he said, turning the handle for her,
al don't"
There entered, before he shut the door, a
small woman, holding III one arm tiny bun
die of baby, and pushing before her a little
boy. She sat down, the baby keeping its po-
sition in the sling formed by its mothers arm,
the boy holding close to her, pulling at her
shawl, and continually asking her in an I'M
Ineligible mutter for something that she
either had not got or didn't mean to part
with. Her bonnet was slipping off her dull,
Cntidv hair; her face was white. with tired,
lusterlesS eyes, pink, pinched little nose and
disseminated mouth. The poor little apology
for baby might have hung round her neck
bv ribbon, and the other child was small
and sickly. i shrunken, depressing little
group.
Just as Stephen Mostyn was beginning TO
weave round in his mind a pathetic, ten
der fancy. the small boy becoming more
than usually importunate, his mother said,
with 10 flicker of change IL the expression of
her face, bur with a voice whose rough graf
Ing easily overpowered the noise of the train:
Jest YOU stop worritin', Tommy, else III
tell YER boomin' dad when we sit 'ome-see
ii ! don't