Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1895-08-02
COLLABORATION.

in hours OF confidence, lest they lead to
tlA death of all future communion
lest, i'll short, peradventure they tempt
you into collaboration with your wife.
In the case Of Jones its beginning
was very insidious. Jones had a mag
nifcent idea for a plot. 1t was modern,
without being nspeakable-never was
there q happier conception But it had a
flaw. There was a hitch i'll the action
which disturbed the flow. Jones stared
wildly at the paper on which he had
jotted down Outline of Plot in his
boldest hand. Staring did not seem to
bring inspiration, and Jones forgot him
self so far as to stamp upon the floor.
His wife heard the unwonted sound.
She was giving the children their nurs-
cry tea at the time, and a little plaster
fell off the ceiling into one Of their
bread and milk bowls She went up
stairs
"What's the matter with the poor
boy, them" she inquired. 'The nursery
ceilings coming down. And what has
he done to his nice smooth hair?''
"Oh, don't be an idiot!'' groaned
Jones. ''I've got the finest idea I ever
had in my life, and now I'm simply
stuck
His wife's little face became grave
and important at once. She was fair,
pretty woman, with brown eyes and
little chin that stuck out.
"Tell me-" said she coaxingly, set
thing on the arm of his big leather chair.
Jones saw no warning shadow Of COM
ing collaboration.
"I'll just give you an idea of my
plot he said, and proceeded to do So
The ''idea'' took three-quarters Of an
hour to give. His wife listened, at first
with preoccupied air. She could not
forget that an open jam pot stood on the
nursery table at baby's elbow Soon,
however, the full beauty Of the thing
burst upon her. She got down from the
arm of jones' chair and embraced him
with fervor.
"Talk of Stevenson indeed" she said
compassionately, cor your Merediths
and Hardys and people!"
"Come, come!" said Jones. He tried
to tell her dryly "not to be an idiot, !"
but the words would not come as easily
as usual After all, real appreciative-
ness is rare gift.
"Write it straight away off, dear, :"
she begged. "Write it, and get the mon
| ey for it. ;"
This brought the fatal hitch back
upon Jones' consciousness in its full bit
terness. He laid the case before his wife.
She at once suggested the only possible
way out of the difficulty.
''That would have occurred to me if
I'd thought a minute longer said
Jones.
"Course it would, the clever boy!'
said his wife soothingly, and she began
to expand her plot. Jones listened pa
tiently, sometimes vouchsafng encour-
agement, and she looked so pretty, 50
flushed and eager over it, that he was
touched In a demented moment he ut
tered the words that risked the happi-
ness of two lives.
"Why shouldn't we write it togeth-
err" he said.
/ Once said, there was no unsaying it.
Without word his wife arose and went
straight to the nearest stationer's. There
she bought ten reams of manuscript pa
per and shillings' worth Of pens. All
the rest of the day she was remarkably
silent. Jones addressed her at the din
ner table with remark that had never
yet failed to please.
81 always like you in that Dress he
said. cts pretty idea, having those
sleeves one can see the arms through
It's called net, or tulle, OF something,
isn't it?''
Zone moment, please, DEAR an
swered his wife, and her lips moved
mutely, in visible composition.
Then Jones remarked that her hair
was arranged with less frivolity than
usual 1t showed more of her forehead,
which gave an intellectual look. This
was aided by somewhat aggressive ink
stain On one Of her fingers,
Jones felt much as he did toward his
baby boy when that infant played at
"being grown up and doin like dadda. -
He patted his wife S cheek. She received
the advance with touch of dignity:
Jones began to feel q trifia irritated,
and he scraped his foot under the table.
His wife started little deliberately, and
. then resumed the silent movement of
her lips.
| Next day, when he came back from,
his Office, he found the plaster knocked
cut of the wall in three places. Tram
ping feet were heard in his own sacred
study, and two finely developed young
men from Shaplelnaln's jostled him in
his agitated progress up the stairs. He
burst into his sanctum, to find it filed
by a writing table. Near the abomina-
ton stood his wife, regarding it with
brown eyes full of pensive pride.
"What in the world is this thing do
ing here?" gasped Jones.
"Why, you couldn't write anything
decent without writing table and how
can you expect me TOT" she inquired.
Her air was SO important, yet Withal SO
guilty, that Jones subdued his indigna=
ton all tried to laugh Wien they had
10th left the room, he went back and
permitted himself the satisfaction OF
kicking tho thing gently i'll several
places.
The evening saw them both estab
Hshed at their desks The horrid impos
sibility of it all struck upon Jones only
too soon. He had written the opening
chapter III hia best manner, and the
time came when he wanted to read it
out. To give her her due, his wife lis
tened eagerly, and did him full justice
when he ceased.
"And now listen to mine,' she said
blithely.
Jones felt it to be his own act and
deed, and he resigned himself to listen.
Her chapter was really not badly writ
ten Her style was evidently modelled
on his own. Jones put his finger tips to-
gether and smiled hopefully. But when
it came to her hero alas! not only had
he ga comb at the back of his head, - as
Stevenson puts it, bat ho was altogether
impossible How to wipe him tenlefly
out Of the chapter without breaking of
/ rtr9 I !