The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1893-11-21


Presently there came to her a bright
idea and she stood very still for a mo
ment, thinking hard. Why could not
she take the manuscript to the ChTOn
tcte? She knew where the office was;
she had been there with Gran'pop. 1t
would be such a surprise to him to find
it already gone when he came home.
She decided to do it. She took the
bundle from the chair and pulled on
her jacket and tied her hood fast. She
was used to dressing herself and soon
was on the steps, the manuscript
clutched firmly in her hand. Then she
started off for the Chronicle office,
proud of her self appointed mission.
The elevator boy was much surprised
and not a little amused when she asked
for the editor. He tried to chaf her
on the way up, but she refused to take
any notice of his remarks, if she under
stood them. All her thoughts were on
the top story and the editor. Despite
his fun making the elevator boy was a
trife impressed, and, thinking she
might be one of the ''old mans" rela-
tions, when they arrived at the upper
floor he showed her to the door of the
sanctum and told her to knock. Then
he left her and went back to his post.
The editor was greatly surprised
when u timid knock sounded on his
door, and in answer to his ''come in"
he saw over his gid bowed spectacles
the diminutive maiden who entered.
He looked at her hard, but she did not
appear discounted. She came toward
him without hesitation and stood with
one little hand resting on the edge of
the desk, the other d the folded
manuscript.
"Gran'pop forgot to bring it down,
so I fetched it" she explained, her blue
eyes looking up into his puzzled gray
ones.
Now, the editor was not a man easily
confused, but this was a novel expert
ence even for him. In all his life he
never remembered having received in
his Office so small and at the same time
so confident a visitor as this. He
looked at her sharply, almost sternly,
suspecting he was the victim of some
joke but her gaze never finched, and
the baby eyes we're not frightened, He
took the manuscript from her grasp
and opened it. There was no solution
of the mystery to be obtained here,
however. The story was some local
history Of early days. There was no
name, no mark of any kind to tell who
wrote it Or where it came from. Non
plussed, he turned his eyes upon the
little figure beside him. Somehow, in
spite of the old fashioned and much
worn clothes, it suggested to him that
of a little one who had once called him
father, and a kindly smile lit his face.
II don't know anything about this
paper" he said. "Who did it come
from9"
From Gran'pop," she answered, as
if that conveyed full information.
Yes, but who's Gran'pop9 I don't
remember him"
why don't you know him7 He's
been here often, and I came with him
once or twice, that's how 1 knew where
it was"
The editor racked his brain in vain
to think who Gran'pop could be.
"Well," he said at last, you sit d
in that big chair there and I'll look
over this paper and tell you what to
say to him." Then he wheeled his chair
about and began reading.
It did not take long, however, for
him to decide who to do. He struck a
hand bell on the desk and a boy came
into the room. "Send Mr.. Campbell
to mer' the editor said.
A moment and the city editor of the
Chronicle entered.
Campbell" said the editor, "do you
know whose writing that isG" and he
handed him the manuscript.
Yes" answered the other, 'it's old
John Harmon's. He brought it in here
this morningand 1 told him we couldn't
use it. It's all ancient history"
"Well," said the editor, a bit shortly,
Its the kind Of ancient history the
Chronicle wants. Can't you see that
that's local matter that a good many
would rather read than news9 Give it
a good place on the fourth page of to-
morrow's Issue, and I'll try to see that
we have a column of just such stuff
twice a week. That's allI'
The city editor did not see the little
figure in the big chair, and a bit dis
concerted at being turned down so
sharply, he took up the manuscript