The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-03-30
HER NOM DE PLUME.

l stand here alone-as much alone this
clear, cold winter morning as though the
wastes of Sahara stretch out around me
Yet l am in a pretty room-a luxurious
room-with a glorious fire glowing in
the silver barred CRATE and the curtains
of frosty lace half obscuring the outside
world. A room with a warm crimson
carpet, a j~ardiniere of blooming plants,
a redbird swinging idly to and fro in its
gilded cage, a piano in the corner and
pictures on the walls, and books-books
everywhere.
This is my especial sanctum, my own
J den, whittier | retreat from the storms
of the world, the cold, pitiless blasts of
adversity-and find peace. Yet I am a
woman-a sensitive. imaginative wom-
an-and if sometimes a tiny touch of
discomfort starts into my heart-a feel
ing of loneliness-it surely need not con-
Germ any n but myself. MAR wasnot
made to live alone" and, for the matter
of that, neither was woman. Yet
better a lonely, single life than ar I'M
happy double existence. So I say as I go
over to my desk and seat myself for the
daily grind"
First I will introduce myself. My
name is We're st. Adams Hale, and l am
q newspaper correspondent, writer of
magazine articles and everything else in
the imagination line for which / can find
sale. The reader must not object to the
implied inference that the newspaper
correspondent is to be classed with writ
ers of fiction. Yet whence do they CLEAN
| all their scraps of wonderful informa-
ton?
For a long time I have been writing
articles for a leading magazine under a
masculine non de plume-Vere St. Al
~bans-which is an abbreviation of my
own given name attached to my second.
To my surprise, the articles have been
received with far more appreciation than
I had dared to hope for, and that fact,
accompanied by liberal checks, has
proved a very pleasant episode in my
hardworking existence. This morning
as I seat myself at my desk preparatory
to coming down on the days work like
the traditional wolf on the fold I am in
terrupted by the appearance of my own
servant-a girl with q fair, open counte-
nance and general vacuity.
well, Abby" I observe, a little tes-
tily, for she is transgressing q well
known rule regarding the ~interrupting
Of my work, what is itr'
"Please, miss" (n a solemn voice,
which somehow provokes me to smile),
there's a lady-that is to say, a girl-in
the deception ROOM"
A small antechamber where my stray
visitors are first received before being
welcomed into the sanctum. l smile a
little more.
reception room, Abby" I correct Sc
verely, but feeling an irresistible desire
to expand the smile into a laugh.
What is her business2'
"Oh, she wants to see Mr.. We're st. Al
bans-that's the very name, miss
proudly. I've said it over and over
till I know it's right"
"Mr. We're St. Albans!"
Irepeat the name-the unlucky name
in a bewildered way.
"What does a wish OF h1mT'
Abby courtesies.
please, miss, / don't know. But she's
a-carryin a little book in her hand. No,
miss, she's not a book agent, cause l
asked her. She's a college girl, she says,
and-and-I believe it's some writing
she wants DONE"
Iarise in mock resignation. I did have
an idea-a bright and brilliant idea-in
my brain when I seated myself at my
desk this morning. It has flown now.
Will it ever return?
take myself into the reception room
and find my visitor, a pretty little school
girl, overdressed and laden with school.
books. Conspicuous on the very top lies
q velvet bound volume. Yes, l have
seen such volumes before, "many a time
and off," and it does not require the
word Autographs" in huge, gilt letters
to explain its mission. She arises at once.
Pardon me for intruding," she be.
gins, 'but I have ventured to call to re-
quest the autograph Of the great writer,
We're St. Adams. VIII you kindly inter
cede in my behalf. madam, and beg
him to write in my album
There is the situation in a nutshell.
She believes We're st. Adams to be a
man, and she wants his illustrious auto
graph. Well, the very easiest way in
the world to get it over with and to be
at liberty to return to my days work at
the desk is to grant her request.
II will csk hin" I return, feeling like
. small conspirator.
"Oh, will you, pleaseF' her face light.
ing up wonderfully. "How good of you;
Yon see, there's q wager on it. Brother
Tom has bet me a dozen pairs of hid
gloves-six buttons and assorted shades
-thats1u not be able to get st. Adams
autograph. He says there is q mystery
! about him. I think you r very kind