The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-09-30
the silence, although smiles of exceed
ing broadness illuminated every face in

the sanctum.
As reporter Julia was of no avail;
that was evident to the chief. He was
furtieely observing her the next after
noon, when he noticed that she seemed
to have drifted away into oblivion of
her work. She held her pencil loosely
in her fingers, tapping 1t on the table,
sliding her digits down and repeating
the process at the other end. The
mucilage brush dipped in the bottle,
but was arrested midway in the air.
The young woman's head bent over in
musing attitude. A sudden litter
escaped her lips. This recalled her to
herself for an instant, but she soon re-
lapsed into reverie. Smiles chased each
other over her half-averted face; now
and then hysteric giggle was smoth-
cred, and once she wiped away n tear.
| Evidently, thought the chief, that
young woman has something on her
mind which does not concern the read
ers of the Bugle. In fact her work be-
gan to show signs of haste and inatten-
ton. One afternoon the chief noticed
that she laid the exchanges aside, and
fell to with great animation upon her
stock of blank paper.
"Ah! she is trying an editorial, may
be; that Is hopeful" he muttered to
| himself. Julia had, at his request, es-
sayed sundry editorial paragraphs, but
as rule, they were too visionary and
emotional for the columns. Perhaps
now she had an inspiration that would
| lead to something better.
The manuscript grew rapidly be-
meath her busy pen. At length 1t was
complete. She half turned round, and
smile of content was visible all over
her face. The chief was already pre-
pairing to stretch out his hand for the
anticipated editorial, when Julia sud-
denly extracted.an envelope from lit
tie drawer of her table, thrust the man
uscript therein and sealed it in haste.
Excuse me few moments" she said,
rising. II have an important letter to
mall" and she vanished from the sane
tum. The chief gave a despairing pull
| at his mustache.
The month of trial was now drawing
to a close. Increased demands upon
the rBugle's columns were exacting
harder work from the staff. It was
evident that Julia could not perform
the duties expected of an assiN ant In
her position; an additional member
of the force was hardly needed, and
could not be afforded. The chief pulled
his mustache reAectively. He liked
Julia; it was pleasant to see her trim
figure and attractive face in the sane
tum; he shrank from the conclusion
that his experiment had been fail
ure. Yet, after all, Julia must go. He
would give her notice in the morning.
1t was too bad; all the Office prophets
would have the laugh on him, but
yet
Miss Finch" he said, the next fore
noon, 'your month is nearly up, and
must give you notice that we need a
man in your place. You really cannot
do all that is required"
Excuse me, Mr.. RUSSELL" the young
lady interrupted, 81 am glad you have
spoken, but you have only anticipated
me. know that cannot do what you
require, and am only putting extra
work on the others. had made up my
mind to leave the office; think / have
learned all can. / am quite satisfied,
only sorry If I have made you any
trouble"
So it was amicably settled, and the
chief emitted a sigh of relief as he sat
down to write letter to one of the
correspondents of the Bugle whose
work seemed promising. The local
made the sanctum fairly rattle with
jigs on his long-suffering banjo the day
after Julia's departure. The night ed
itor contentedly resumed his seat in
the inner office. The tidings were whis-
pered about, and speedily the familiars
began to burst in afternoons with their
hurricanes of gossip.
Three months later the chief opened
journal from a neighboring state,
and 10! there was q red line drawn
around the marriage notices. "In
Blanktown, November blank, by Rev.
Blank Blank, Mr.. George Blank and
Miss Julia Finch. of Ayrestown," was
what he read.
$50 that accounts for the supposed
editorial, and the important letterl
Hum, huml and the titters, and the
bushes, the tears and the reverie."
So thought the chief. as he communi-
Gated the news to his assistants.
He was mistaken. Six months more
rolled away. A group of heads were
bent toge ther over the editorial table.
The individual and collective eyes OF
the Bugle staff were fixed upon an
open volume just received by post,
with the Compliments of the author NJ
"Three Progressive Girls" by Julia
Finch, was the title. 1t was spright-
ly novel from fresh and enthusiastic
pen. One of the heroines was teach
err, one musician and one writer at
tached to the staff of daily paper.
They were all there-the chief, the
local, the night editor, the foreman,
the uproarious familiars, and even the
paste pot and scissors.
"By Joye!" exclaimed the local,
"didn't she play iton the Bugle! She
was making study of us. She's got
you down fine, governor, that's sol"
The chief meditatively fell back on
his mustache. His fingers twisted and
pulled in exact time with the tumul-
tuous swapping of the locals banjo.
His experiment had been a good one.
To be sure, it did not develop report
er, but then 1t spiced successful ro-
mance.-Housewife.