The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1894-11-14

! the Inner Circle was by no means sat
! lsfed with his last batch of paragraphs,
! and he cannot afford to be deprived Of
/ the guinea & week which he receives
from that very fashionable journal.
The editor had said-though more
rudcly, technically and brieiy-that
either Mr.. Albert Weeks would have to
/ convey more convincing impression
! of his intimate acquaintance with high
( society, or the Inner Circle would dis
/ pense with his valuable services. The
/ words that the editor-who was rather
| less fashionable than his penny pant
/ Ing paper-actuaily used were: more
savvy, or outside only, my dear boy,
and don't you forget it."
| What are you TODD when you are too
| good TO know the butler and not good
| enough for the buffers master to know
| you? This is what, I perceive, Albert
/ Weeks is doing. writing laboriously:
The season IS diving fast, ana an sure that
most Of nv readers VIII agree with ne that It
has been an unusually brilliant one. So every
body was saying 20 me at Lazy BallinghGul' ;
last niClt. By the way. Lady E&Illlngham must
have the secret Of eternal youth: last night
she Looked more beautiful than ever AS for
her house in Park lane, have always consid-
cred IL 70 be quite the most charming town
house that have seen IN the whole course Of
nv experience. Wen, the long round o. de-
Ightrul AID luxurious
Here he is interrupted, because his
WORKOUT, striving, vulgar, respectfully,
loving. sharpish wife has come into the
room with g blue paper in her hand.
Supper, Albert; come on now. Oh,
you amt touched your tea, and / was
particular to bring it. Are you comm?
Emery as broke the soapdish in the
nursery: that's what the crvin' was
about. This here is BilderspIn's bill
for what he did to the kitchen, range.
It's high-One, seventeen, six"
That is the last straw. His editor
has bothered him His work has
bothered him He Is very tired. A
paragrap h-which was really coming
out very nicely-has been interrupted.
Money is very scarce. And supper is
mere mutton, and his wife looks rather
81, and Bilderspin's bill is one,, seven
teen, six. The combination over
powers him. The little man throws
down his pen, stamps his foot and
swears like mad bl2ckguar dI-swears
profusely.
Now, then, shall make tf1is'man my
parent? If l crept through that sandy
hair into tho whitey-gray brain, what
a change there would be He would
be conscious that he had got now,
tremendous, imperial idea. He would
put down his knife and fork, finish the
beer IN his glass at one gulp, explain
-, he =
~ inspired this time, and rush wildly
at the handsome inkstend and his
work. BY the following midday 1
should be in manuscript In six wrecks
Albert would be famous Iii sig
months he would have real money and
no debts, and there would be moro
money to come. There would be
new soapdish, new furniture, new
dresses for his wife. Emery would
have toys and go-cart; Albert would,
on little occasions, have Hildseek.
They would be off to the seaside for a
fortnight, and do the thing well, and
the personal paragraphs would say
that Mr.. Weeks and his family were
spending the winter in Brighton,
where it is to be hoped that this new
and brilliant author will not allow his
pen to be idle"
mo, l definitely decide that I will
not make Albert Weeks my parent
am not philanthropist; l am only an
idea. ! do not want to benefit Albert
Weeks, and / do want to satisfy my
own whim. My own whim definitely
refuses Albert Weeks.
At the same time I am IN great
hurry 10 be born. have knowledge,
but it is limited. For instance, l be-
heve that / am an idea for a short
story, but | am not sure know l am
miraculously good idea, but do not
know in what way l am tremendously
good l yearn 20 see myself in my
final form. l must positively get born.
Well, let me examine elsewhere.
Here, l observe, the traffic is being
partially disturbed by long funeral
coming brislily back from the Gene
terry. In the first coach is young
man alone. He IS in deep mourning.
He has drawn the window blinds down.
His hat is placed on the front seat He
himself is kneeling on the floor of the
coach; his arms spread over the back
seat; his eyes are glaring hot with
unshed tears; he bends his head and
bites fierccly the wrist of one hand.
| know his name at once and some
thing about him. He Is Hon Eardley
TTayers Nylnot. Away in the Gene
terry lies the still body Of Maud Farra-
dyce whom Wylmot was to have mar
ried two months hence If she had
lived. The agony of his grief would
not be doubted by anyone wis saw
him VOW; but it Is bad to look at man
when he is like that.
Yet Wylmot Is a man who has al
ways doubted himself. He is haunted
with the thought that he is sham.
Perhaps he Gid once or twice over-em-
plastic in conversation his passionate
admiration for his favorite authors;
but ne paid dearly for the pose; he sub
sequently threw the books aside and
sad that he was sick OF all talk about
art: In the fierce reactionary fit he be-
came addicted to q hearty steak-and-
onions in low company. heard some
distinctly coarse stories, and had him
self put up for sporting club which
neither interested him nor desired his
mem hership- The rcactionary III was
bitter. but 1t was short. As with his
books So with his writing. In proud
moments he believes that he IS going
10 he q leader; he pays for his pride
with days Of depression when he doubts
whether be Is even capable of being
decent follower. As with his writ
inCs SO with h.s love. 4 few weeks