The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1893-02-15

table.
There were many notes and scraps,
meaningless and disjointed, but finally
she came to packet containing quite
lengthy manuscript, closely written,
much folded and fingered.
"The ghost is an author" said Polly,
sand his manuscript has been rejected.
Proved unavailable to our columns
Poor fellow! Well, l shall read his
story if it be one. The plot thickens.
Think of being able to read a ghosts
storyP One that the eye of mortal has
never beheld!"
She began to read, turning the
leaves over slowly at first but gradual
ly her eyes flew over the closely-writ-
ten pages, the words and thoughts
were filing her with an interest that
she had seldom felt in printed pages.
She finished at last with sigh of re-
lief.
"If only the woman had not been such
perfect stick" she said; eff she had
not said such stiff, silly things, one
could feel that the story was beyond
criticism"
She sat moment in deep thought.
81 will do it," she said, at last. II be-
lieve 1 can do it; at all events I shall
try; but not now"
She got up, arranged the papers and
chair just as she had found them and
crept down through the little door into
I her own room.
The next day Miss Paschall surprised
the fashionable stationer on the corner
by ordering whole ream of "fools-
cap"
Richard Blount opened the door of
his bare little study" put down the
armful of wood he was carrying and
knelt down upon the hearth to kindle
the fire. He was what casual OBJ
server would have called an ugly man,
but he had good, well-knit figure, a
fine head, and strong though irregular
features.
There was tired, troubled look on
his face as he sat down at his writing
table and bent his head upon his
folded hands. He was weary in mind
and body. His days had been always
days of toll, his life had been one long
struggle. With heritage of a good
name that had come to him from his
forefathers there had come from his
father legacy of debt which he had
y
"My task is almost done," he said to
himself. If I could only get my story
accepted I feel sure there are good
things in it, but if I only knew what
to make the girl say. When fellows
acquaintance with women doesn't ex-
tend beyond knowledge of his own
grandmother he can't have very
clear idea of what young girls con-
| Il h. f1.ry
once more and see what can do with
| it."
He picked up the MSS, which was
folded carefully and still in the place
where he had left it.
Slowly he turned over the first few
pages, listlessly reading them.
Suddenly he held the paper up close
to the lamp. The handwriting had
changed! There was no break in the
story, but as he read on he found
whole pages which he had not written,
and gradually it dawned upon him that
their additions were giving to his
story life, a sparkle that it had not
had before.
"Who can have done itP" he said,
when he had finished. mo one knows
of this den but myself-not even
grandmother. Perhaps it is a ghost
come back from our past grandeur,
with a smile, "and a very witty ghost
she is, too," looking at the beautiful,
womanly, writing that was mingled
with his own, "and I feel deeply in
debted to her fer her interference.
Well, shall send the story off again
and if it is published that will make
my assistant show up if she is not g
ghost in very truth" he said, by and
by.
"Ihave brought you the magazine
containing the new story that is Great.
ing such sensation" said Polly'E
father to her one day. "Nobody knows
the author, but am told he has made
the greatest hit of the season"
"Oh," said Polly, when she had cut
the leaves. 81 believe 1 shall pay an
other visit to my ghosts apartment,
she added to herself on her way to hel
room, the magazine tucked under hel
arm.
She ambled up on the bookcase,
opened the door and went into the
room beyond. Her dress caught or
the door as she passed through anc
pulled 1t to with a click. Before she
had time to extricate herself she heard
key inserted into the lock on the other
side, the door opened and man walked
in. Polly leaned back against the wall
frightened.
The young man regarded her with
startled expression in his big gray
eyes.
"How-did you get in here?" ne
asked at length.
"Through the little door here" sale
Polly, breathlessly. at has shut tC
behind me. thought you were
, ghost"
81 think it is you who are the ghost,
said the young man, smiling.
won't you open the door for me-?
J asked Polly.
The ghost came up to her.
you are Miss Paschall, he said. "
have heard my grandmother speak o
you. My name is Richard Blount."
7 Polly turned her beautiful eyes for
> moment up to his good, ugly face ant
| held out her hand to him.
He blushed as he took it, and for
moment neither spoke.
/ 81 fear l can not open this little trap
) door for you from this side," he sal
at last. There is a long hall lead
| over your house to the one grand
f mother and occupy now. Come,
: will take you out that way. l com
over here so that my light may nc
4 disturb grandmother at night. If you
7 apartments are near this | fear hav
D disturbed you," he added, as he hel
7 the door open for her, and she passe
], out into the narrow hall.
3 "Oh, no." she answered. 81 think
a heard you once, and then was so
4 hopes you were ghostP"
$50 you were caught by that oil
i little spring lock-" said old Mr.
g Blount, when they had found her, an
i Polly's presence was explained.
4 remember being fastened in the lit
9 square room once" said the old lad.
gently. at was when was a youn
: girl and here on visit to your Aur
: Ellen, Richard. Your grandfather il
9 duced me to climb through the litt
9 door, and then he fastened it benin
d me. He said he would not let me OIL
= until 1 had promised to marry him.
stayed in that night and half the ne
r daV before I promised him. But com