The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1894-11-14
The trouble is that / am inappropri-

|
/ THE IDEA APPROACHES Mr. WEEKS
( ate-horribly and grotesquely inappro-
! pirate; for l have discovered more
about myself, and l find that am a
/ humorous idea. / am the newest, the
most delicious, the most inevita bly, hu.
morous idea that ever has been or ever
will be- The bare thought OF me
brings deep satisfaction right away
down in the very pit of ones apprecia.
tons. AT first am too great for laugh
ter, but the laughter comes. 1t comes
in chuckles; il swells and grows To
shaking paroxysms- Here. in this
room, but half an hour ago Wylmot at
least reached the full appreciation OF
me. Il had been growing upon him
ever since the moment in the mourn
Ing coach when 1 first came to him.
There had been at intervals sudden
smiles over his face, succeeded by en-
expression of agonized shame and con-
triton But at the full appreciation
OF me gave up the struggle and began
to laugh. He threw back his head; he
stamped one foot: he held his sides
with both hands; he roared; he howled
hei plessly.
His laughter stopped quite suddenly,
rs great fits Of laughter often do, as II
1t had been cut short with a clean stroke
Of knife. He took out his watch,
glanced at it, and-just as he had real
jzed the full humor Of me-realized the
full horror Of the situation. Three
short hours before he had stood beside
an open grave, wherein he did then
most truly believe that all his interest
and all the brightness of his life lay.
That was three hours ago.
And yet he had just finished At Of
the widest, most uncontrola bic laugh
ter. He had been allowing himself to
be amused, 1t was just here that Wyl-
mot had that unpleasant attack of hy-
steria.
He has recovered from it, and has
composed himself. His face Is very
white now. and he looks rather like a
man under a curse. He gets out his
writing materials. Maud" he says,
softly. you are not minding, are you?
This blamed thing has got. into my
head. I didn't want to think of any
thing humorous, but this came to me.
Maud, it would make the dead laugh
It is too funny-and / don't want TO
think of II any more. That is why
am going to write it all out. Then
perhaps | may be able to put il aside.
Oh, Maud, don t think that I'm irrever-
ent and unfeeling. My heart is dead
and with you. I hate myself for hav-
ing laughed, but had to. Twill get rid
of this idea that's haunting me, and
then | don't think / shall ever laugh
again"
He sits down, and'at the top of the
page writes in a large hand. e lien
1t is the title of the story which is to
embody me. He writes fast for half an
lighted lamps
The moment the servant has gone
the pen dashes down on the paper
again, as though it had gained an adj
ditional impetus by being kept back
for minute. He does not dine out:
he does not go to the club. He writes
at lightning speed, only pausing to
laugh from time TO time more wildly
than ever. He laughs and writes.
writes and laughs, on and on, until he
finds that the lamps are going ont. and
chances at his watch. It is five o'clock
In the morning. and the stack of paper
in front of him is the finished story-me
mysef-rne, the magnifcently humor-
Gus idea.
He draws back the curtain and lets
the wan London daylight into the
room. He realizes that ne feels very
exhausted and shaky. goes TO the side
board in an adjoining room, and gets
himself some brandy. He drinks two
glasses of it in rapid succession; then
he goes off to bed. He is too tired for
any further emotion. Laughter and
tears alike Will be closed book to him
until he has slept. He falls to sleep at
once, and sleeps long-heavily, dream
lessly.
And lie on the table IN the study
newborn. IN a snow-white manuscripts
incarnation. VIII my reluctant parent
burn me in the morning?