The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1892-03-19
THE EDITOR-MAN.
lie Was Not So Bad as Fredrica
Had Imagined.

A woman, whose years could not have
numbered more than twenty-five, and
little girl sat in library of small
house in Boston one morning late in
spring.
A low fire burned in the CRATE, al
though the day was not cold The
child whose deep, violet eyes and cloud
} curly, golden hair made a sweet
! 'ctnrr, sat on II rug before the fire,
ind leaned against her mothers chair.
Her head rested in her mothers lap,
and every now and then the latter
,. stopped to press kiss upon the golden
7curls.
The little one was speaking; she was
very small and could not have been
more than five years old, but she spoke
very plainly.
when you sell all those beautiful
stories Liebchen," she murmured,
with fond upward glance, what y
jolly time we'll have! The story about
the knight and the lady was too splen-
lid! AT first l was afraid she wouldn't
love" here the shrill whistle of the
postman caused the child to spring up
hastily from the rug, and run to the
door.
1t was only few steps from the
front door to the library, but the child
was uuaccountably long in returning.
"Fredrica," called her mother, with
an infection as near impatience in her
voice as she ever used toward her
cherished child, bring me the mail"
Yes, mamma, I'm coming" But it
was with slow footsteps that the little
maid advanced and reluctantly laid a
large, heavy envelope in her mothers
outstrctched hand.
Mrs. LeCharlton's lips quivered as
she broke the seal and took out the
contents of the envelope. 1t was a
MS of some length, and the printed
declined with thanks" futtered out
and fell in the CRATE as she opened it.
She averted her face from Fredricas S
anxious gaze and the child knew she
was crying. She sprang into her lag
and put her arms around her neck.
Dearest, sweetest. don't cry. know
it is lovely, even if that editor don't t.
lie is bad, cruel man, and / will tell
him so! You shan't ever write any more
for him, even if he gets down on his
knees and begs for it."
Then the violet eyes overlooked
and Fredrica's sobs came fast and
faster, and the mother forgot her OWL
pain in soothing the child,
When she was comforted and calm
again it was time for Mrs LeCharltor
TO go out; so, calling Mrs. johnson
the one help of the little household, tC
see after the child, she kissed her many
times and hurried away, promising t.
return early.
Agnes LeCharlton was a fashion re
porter for one of the large daily pa
pers in the city.
She had aspirations and talents fai
above this work. but that was her mali
dependence; she could not afford t,
give up the position that brought tn,
neccssaries of life while she devoted
herself TO more congenial literary
work, which might not find q ready
sale.
Death had divorced her from tn,
man whom she ha6 welded when bu
eighteen years old. He had proven un
worthy her love, and had killed tn,
last remnant of it ere he died, three
years before our story begins witt
NFlab hho lNlb VI liNl pau an
what her position on the paper brought
she supported herself and Fredilca
The deep, intense love her little dadgh
ter bore her was the light of her life.
Fredrica was old for her years Sh,
was her mothers companion, excep
when the latter was at her work, ant
sy sympnthized with her in everything
The stories and sketches Agnes man
aged TO write between whiles" were
source of delight to the child; the stor.
returned that morning, one that reall.
betrayed talent was her fayorite. N
wonder the little heart swelled witt
indignation at the man who had re
jected itl
AS she thought about IL after he
mother was gone, Fredrica came to