The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1890-04-23
A PERFECT PLOT.

You are rather late, Stephen" said
Mrs. Mostyn, as her husband came into
the dining-room one day, just as she
had finished breakfast, ''and I can not
stay with YOU as / have to 90 out
go out! Why. you said last night
you were going to finish that china
painting this morning, though l really
don't know why you should work so
hard. We are not in absolute penurv."
No; but it is pleasant making money
in way one likes. Besides, there will
be some to give away when we find we
have too much ourselves. And Row is
your trade going on?''
ITO tell the truth, not brilliantly. In
fact, am rather hung up for want of
plot
"a plot?''
Yes, it is ridiculous. I have short
story to write this week, and. though I
have rather a neat set of characters and
small incidents ready, if you under
stand a main idea is wanting
Dear me that is unfortunate! Why
don't you 90 out for walk. OF for half
an hour in the underground OF to the
city on a bus, and find one?"
MY dear Millicent, what nonsense
you talk. As if l were the least likely
to find my ideal plot that way! No;
must try and worry it out myself some
how.n
..Wen, l must be off. Goodbye,
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:
II never felt less inclined to write in
my life! Really, | have a good mind
to follow Millicent's advice and go out.
In few minutes he was standing on
the doorstep, deciding upon his next
move.
What beastly fog! | certainly
shan't lose much under ground, SO
here goes for the Metropolitan Rail-
way"
where forp'' said the clerk sharply,
as Stephen stood vaguely i'll front of
the ticket Office.
''Oh, Whitechapel. l should think
that leaves room for discovery" he
thought to himself.
w hat class?'
Third better do it thoroughly.
Now, then. for trial trip between Ken
sington and the Mile End Road, to test
Millicent's theory"
A small boy with a large, heavy
parcel got into the carriage with him,
and spent some moments in vainly try
ing to secure his burden more firmly,
by means of a knotty bit of string that
crossed it here and there in purpose
less festoons. Mr.. Mostyn lending his
help between them they made rather a
neat thing of it.
Adventure the first; ended I fear, -
said Stephen to himself. Il really
can't ask him how old he is and where
he lives, and if he thinks it healthy"
'Temple!"
Out tumbled the parcel and the boy
and in walked an elderly young woman
with fringe and an American hand
bag. She sat down opposite to
Stephen. put her hands to her head as
if to make certain that it was still in
its place, opened her bag and realized
that she had not lost her ticket, looked
at the window and sighed.
mot exactly ideal, but scarcely
real.'' thought Stephen. ''Do you feel
the draught from that window?' he
asked.
No, don't, thank you.' with a
well-arranged look of spiteful timidity,
and changing her seat to one at the
other end of the carriage.
is this a beginning?" thought
Stephen. Now, l should like to ask
her if she thinks my life for thirty-five
years has been working up to the
climax of meeting her. yelled in golden
fog, in third class Metropolitan rail
way carriage? l wonder if it's any
good going on with this incidentP
Madame-?"
''Sir, think this is Blackfriars' Sta
tion," she said whisking her head
round as she spoke, the end of her nose
depriving the glass of a very fine smut
at the same time.
ut is not my business to tell her that
she is now still more attractive than
when she got in," thought Stephen;
''she would probably give me into
custody if did-Blackfriars? Yes, it
is. Do you get out here?"
Yes" plunging at the door as she
spoke.
"Ah," he said, turning the handle for
her, Il DON'T
There entered, before he shut the
door, small woman, holding in one
arm a tiny bundle of baby. and push
ing before her a little boy. She sat
down, the baby keeping its position in
the sling formed by its mothers arm,
the boy holding close to her, pulling al
her shawl, and continually asking her
in an unintelligible nutter for some
thing that she had not got or didn't
mean to part with. Her bonnet was
slipping off her dull. untidy hair; her
face was white, with tired, lusterless
eyes, pink, pinched little nose and dis
contented mouth. The poor little
apology for baby might have hung
round her neck by a ribbon, and the
other child was small and sickly. A
shrunken, depressing little group.
just as Stephen was beginning tc
weave around in his mind pathetic
tender fancy, the small boy becoming
more than usually importunate his
in the expression of her face, but with
oyerpowered the noise of the train:
jest you stop a worritin', Tommy,
else I'll tell yer bloomin' dad when we
git 'ome-see if don't"
Stephen shut his eyes, and only
opened them as the little family bundled
out two stations further on.
s'The Monument'' Mark Laner
No further passengers invaded his car
riage.
II can't stand this any longer, and
the condensed fog chokes one. | shall
get out at the next station and &c
back
"Aldgaten'
Out he jumped and crossed to the re.
turn platform, literally feeling his way.
The underground station at Aldgate is
often quite dark in the middle of Sum-
mer, and on this day the fog was dense.
He found his way to a seat, and ESQ
thick was the darkness) did not dis
cover. till he had taken his place at the
end Of it, that there were two other