Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1892-06-10
SPLINTER'S NOVEL.

SPLINTER'S NOVEL.
The most odd part of the whole affair
was that John Haverstraw Splinter had
not the remotest thing to do with his sud-
den leap into fame.
He had left the London suburb in which
he resided early in June, a very ordinary
little doctor intent on building up a prac-
tice and ever since, except for two short
and too short-weeks at Brighton, he had
been buried in little fishing village away
down on the coast of Dorsetshire.
He had gone there to study, and there
fore he left newspapers, story books and
CORRESPONDENCE behind.
So far as story books went it cost him no
self denial to forego them. Splinter didn't
believe in them; he considered them very
useless if not absolutely pernicious.
Anovel had lately dawned upon the liter
airy horizon with the somewhat singular
title of s'The Girl with the Psyche Knot. !"
1t was an effusion in a paper cover, and
it had a picture of the heroine with her
hair screwed up into psyche knot adorn-
ing the front page.
just below it large red letters announced
that it's author was J. Haverstraw Splinter.
Now, in the train the previous night
Splinter had read criticism Of this novel
in one of the evening papers. This paper
spoke in the highest terms of it's unde-
niable cleverness, and bro6ght its article
70 q o1oco with tho foI1oruircr 1ittla lorrv,
''To readers faded with the recent glut of
Psyche Knot will come like Whit of sea-
breeze. There is an unmistakable smack
of masculinity about this little book, which
unconsciously proclaims its author to be a
thorough man of the world. Mr.. j. Hayer-
straw Splinter possesses the virtue, SO rare
in our day, of writing of what he knows"
Now, when Splinter saw his name SO I'M
expectedly in print it gave him quite a
little start, but never for one instant did
he realize that it was to his identical self
that the article referred.
1t was not till he had reached his lodg-
ings and had perused few of the scores of
letters which he found awaiting him, that
the full significance of the situation dawned
upon his bewildered mind.
Two or three of them were from publish
ers, offering liberal terms for his next
novel.
At last he found letter, the handwrit-
ing of which was familiar. Continuing
his search until the bottom of the pile was
reached, he found, in all, four letters which
he laid aside.
One was from Miss Fry, wealthy pa
tient of his; another was from Frank Dex-
ter, his greatest chum, and the other two
were from Aunt Samantha and his pretty
little cousin Rosie. He opened Miss Fry's
letter first.
SIR-My sisters and myself would be greatly
obliged if you would favor us with your &C
count at your earliest convenience. We find
ourselves the victims Of confidence wholly
misplaced. We had no idea that you combined
with your medical practice a capacity for
writing novels. My sisters and l have con-
sidered you far above the fiippancy and world
ly tendencies of the average medical student.
1t is with deep modification that we now dis
cover that the man whom we trusted is guilty
of writing most obnoxious novel, which is on
sale at all the bookstalls.
Then came the signature, catherine
Fry" and Splinter could see the icicles
upon it.
Splinter gave vent to long, low whistle,
and then tore open the letter from Frank.
1t was long letter, covering many pages,
but when he had finished it Splinter's face
was sight to behold. There was time,
wrote Dexter, when he really aattered him
self that he enjoyed Splinter's full conf
dence. He had lived to see his mistake
When, however, for lack of an original
idea he had taken the incidents of an af-
fair from real life, which had been confided
to him under conditions of the strictest
secrecy, and had used them in the most
bare faced manner for the plot of his novel,
it was about time for somebody to char
acterize him as an unmitigated cad.
Aunt Samantha's missive was short, but
extremely to the point:
JOINT didn't believe you had enough in
you to write book of any sort. let alone
novel. l read the book and laughed over it,
and thought that old trump, Lady Thermopy-
lac, a perfect idiot. And now all my friends
hero tell me it's a capital portrait of me.
That's what cannot forgive you-making fun
of your poor old aunt! Henceforth you are no
longer my nephew; wash my hands OF you
entirely, and dear little Rosie is now to be my
heir. Your aunt that was, but is no longer,
SAMANTHA PLUNKETT.
Splinter lay back ip his chair and fairly
gasped. If it hadn't been for his misun-
Outstanding with Dexter, Splinter could
have felt, comparatively speaking, light
hearted
He could exist without the patronage of
the Misses Fry, and he knew quite well
that some of these days Rosie would be
putting her hair up or wearing manly
waistcoat OF mourning Aunt Samantha's
anger in some other peculiar way, and
l,a III TO 1o. IN
again.
"What on earth does he mean about my
betraying his confdence?" groaned Spin
ter to himself. 81 never breathed that af-
fair of his to living soul"
"And yet-wait a bit, pow-I did, too,
after fashion. It was last summer, up
at Aunt Samantha's. Rosie was in the
hammock half asleep, and she asked me to
tell her story to 'liven her up bit. And
SO began, Once upon a time knew
fellow and, then, half unconsciously,
Franks story slipped out bit by bit.
changed the surroundings and did not
mention any names whatever.
Ait's Rosie-that's who is at the bottom
of the whole AFFAIR."
Presently, when he grew calmer, he
opened Rosie's letter:
MY DEAR OLD JoHN-Well, old fellow, and
how do you take your new honors? Think OF
you as novelist And You have brought it all
on yourself, yo4 know. YpN mustn't blame
poor little me, for wrote and gave you fair
warning that was going to use your NAME
and took your silence for consent am sure
you ought to feel very grateful toward me.
And now I've just one little favor to ask OF
you. Don't peach on me, John, dear; at all
events not until aunte gets a little more set
tied down. was very indiscreet to introduce
that little danger Signal" never saw auntie
in such rage in all my life. aand that's say
ing a good deal, you know. It is nat very much
to ask, seeing that you are SO far away from
the volcano. Your affectionate cousin,
ROSIE.
Now, Rosie was a very nice-a most par
ticulariy nice-little girl. Splinter used to
think, until he paid that memorable visit
to Brighton. Isfen now he wonld do great
deal for Rosie, and of course he must grant
her request.
There was a rap at the door, and a note
was handed IN. It was written from
Brighton, and said briefly that mamma
and the writer would be in town on the
morrow, and wouldn't !&r. Splinter come
and dine with them,
They had not read sThe Girl with the
Psyche Knot" yet, for they could not OBJ
tain copy of it at Brighton for love or
money. They would get copies as soon as
they reached London, however. The letter