Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-05-14


asked tho Butterfly almost in whisper.
Tho author covertly pointed as he
answered, "That man talking to your
mother.
"Oh!" said the Butterfly as she blush
ed Then she added, Books aren't a
bit like life, are they?"
"This one is" insisted the author,
cit will be horrid book" said the
Butterfly.
"Abominable, assented the author.
They both sighed.
Nothing at all happened?" she ask
ed again.
HE was not killed in the hunting
field" said the author.
"Not even after ever so many years
three or four, mean!"
"No, never. He lived on. -
The Butterfly was looking attentive
ly at the man who was talking to her
mother.
1T will be horrid book" she said,
with little shudder.
"But you couldn't help yourself. He
was so splendidly rich, you see"
''Was livery awful?"
Dull as ditch water. You'd never
cared for him, you see. "
Hadn't II" asked the Butterfly.
There was a pause. Then the Butter
fly, with yet another glance across the
room, added in whisper:
"Why doyou write it if it's horrid?'
"Why do you?" asked the author.
The Butterfly unbuttoned her glove
and buttoned it again.
"Were you always broken hearted?'
she asked.
ITO the very end.
"And were you always poor?"
The author smiled.
II made most wonderful success, "
said he dreamily, with a book that
came out exactly one week after the
wedding"
"Then you were an author in the
book too?"
1.-The portrait Of me is exact in every
particular, said he.
'And of me-is it," asked the But.
terfy, still engaged with her glove.
well, is it," asked the author.
care you mercenary?"
"a little" said the Butterfly, with q
pout.
Worldly"
II like nice things" said the Butter.
fly, with sigh.
"Shallow hearted?" asked the au.
thor, bending down to her.
well, can you see to the bottom OF
it," she asked.
"I'm trying. There's something
right at the bottom"-
SIS there?" she asked, and she open.
ed her fan.
~ wonder if I could dive in and gel
itp'
II shouldn't do that. l should let il
stay" said the Butterfly.
Really" asked the author.
Perhaps" said the Butterfly.
'And the book?'
"Don't write it," whispered the But
terfy.
At this moment the mother Of the
Butterfly and the man opposite rose.
Unjust go, said the Butterfly. "It's
funny / met you. 1--we seen yor
about SO often"
I've seen you about, too" said the
author.
The mother of the Butterfly and tn,
man were close now
IF write the book. may I send YOU
copy?" asked the author.
The book" said the Butterfly, ''i
not to be written" and she turned mos
graciously to the man as he approached
The author bowed and escaped.
I've been telling your mother wit
that fellow is" said the man.
YES" said the Butterfly's mother
with significant air; Il was mistaken
about him. He's just writer
"Of very stupid books, said the man
The Butterfly looked at him for al
instant Then she observed in distan
manner, "Well, I've just prevented hin
writing a stupider ono still"
what about?" he asked.
Cautiously enough-you, returned
tho Butterfly.
"Confound him! What would he hav,
said about me?''
Nothing" said the Butterfly, will
marked emphasis, that is in the yer,
lest likely to be true. So told him tt
leave you out. But ! said he Nigh
write about me if he liked"
Does he want tor" asked her mothe,
Why, yes, think SO, smiled thu
Butterfly.
Itwon't be . bit more true" growl
ed the man.
II don't know about that, said thu
Butterfly, and she smiled again.
thony Hope in National Observer.