The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1896-08-28
AN OLD, OLD STORY.

''It Is of no use!' said Mary, desper-
ately. II can't think of q single thing
to say"
She sat and frowned gloomily, Bit
ing the end of her penholder. Now
and then she ran her hand distractedly
through her hair. This was trick of
hers when thinking hard, and, as rule,
the result was more startling than
pleasing.
''It is of no use!" she said again;
but this time with different infection.
II mustn't sit here and give way to
laziness like this. If don't write u
tale, we can't pay the grocer's bill! 1
must and will begin, only what on
earth am I to say?"
Mary's brain was fertile enough, and
her busy fancy generally delighted In
spinning love stories and the like. In
the early days Of her scribbling she
had been greatly laughed at by her
mother and sisters. but when welcome
little checks began to come in return
for bulky envelopes sent through the
post the tone Of the family altered,
and Mary had for some time been re-
garded as person Of importance.
Perhaps they overrated her powers,
for they had come to the conclusion
that Mary could do almost anything.
Mary's head was looked upon as bank
upon which ON unlimited amount Of
modest demands could be drawn, and
the girl now and then felt trife over
whelmed as she realized what was eX-
pected of her.
"Oh, Mary must write tale" her
mother would say, easily, when an ad-
ditional expense was suggested. So
the fancy of the moment would be in
dulged in, and Mary would shut herself
up in the little room she called her own,
from whence in due time she would
emerge tired, but triumphant.
On this particular morning, how
ever, she racked her brains in vain.
She tried her hardest to think of some
slender framework upon which to hang
the usual mild lovemaking, but the
more she tried to WOO "the muse" the
more obstinately did the said muse re-
fuse to respond to her advances
"I feel exactly as if a wet sponge had
been passed over my BRAIN" she
thought, despairingly, "There doesn't
seem single idea left"
Just then o gentle rap came at the
door.
"Come in," said Mary, impatlently.
She never liked being interrupted
when she was trying to work. and just
now she felt more than usually cross.
Her face relaxed little, however,
when she saw her visitor.
"You, John! 1 thought 1t was Jen-
ME. wondered whatever she wanted
now."
Poor Jennie" said the newcomer,
laughing.
"Poor Mary, think" rejoined Mary,
dolefully.
"Why, whatever is the matter? ?"
asked John Redmond, taking seat,
and evidently preparing to make him
self as comfortable as circumstances
permitted. He looked very strong and
capable as he smiled down upon Mary,
and the girl was conscious of a dis
tinct feeling of relief, though she hard
| ly knew its source.
"Well," said Mary, "I feel worried
and bothered. You know, John, how
much all our folks have got into the
way of looking to me for help In money
| matters?"
"Yes, I know" replied John, with q
rather curious infection.
81 like to do it." said Mary, quickly,
sit makes me very glad and happy to
do it. / should not say word about
it to anybody but you, but you already
know these details. You are such an
intimate friend Of the family, aren't
you?"
"a very intimate friend of the fam
ily," echoed the young man, gravely.
sand mother has often told you how
easy it was for me to earn few pounds,
hasn't she?"
every often" answered the young
man again, with the same gravity.