Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1898-09-01
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE

y
hard substance, stretched his legs
scratched his head for about the for
tieth time, and calculated to himself;
Il declare, l haven't single
thought in my head to-day. Can't
write little Bit
i II you had looked at the young
man you would have wondered at
such a remark, for he looked like a
fellow of rare Intelligence, and, more
over, if the face is any guide to what
lies behind 1t. you certainly would not
imagine this handsome, thoughtful
countenance to belong TO young
idealess man.
Its jus, as the fellows say, the
only way can write story is to sit
down at "A typewriter as though
were hustling off something of little
importance, but which had to be
written. Now. il | only had an idea"
Excuse me, but will you please tell
me the way TO the Larches? | have
wandered along the shore and around
so many intricate paths that | have
quite lost my way"
Tom Moore looked up with the
greatest expression of surprise in his
face that had happened there for
some time. for he was a young man
who boosted that nothing surprised
him, jumped to his feet and took OF
his hat to what he mentally noted
was the prettest girl he had ever
seen, and stammered:
why, er-um-ah-certainly, cers
tainly-the Larches, did you say!
Well, the fact is, I'm very, very sorry,
but l never heard Of the place before,
but I shall be delighted" with a pro.
found bow, ito help you find tho
place."
"You are very, very good" the pref.
ty girl stammered. She was shy-all
pretty girls are more or less shy,
which, OF course, adds much to their
beauty.
Well, we blush to relate it, but that
good-looking, thoughtful young man,
who had sought out this restful.
shady and secluded spot for the pur.
pose Of writing up" something, and
that very pretty blushing girl, who
had only stopped to ask the way,
ended by seating themselves beside
the boulder and enjoying quiet
chat. Now, if the place had been diff
ferent, and the season Of the year an.
other season, and If the girl had been
some other girl and the fellow some
other fellow, we might have called
this wicked Irritation, but this par
ticular place, season, girl and fellow
make up something wholly different
"a chance acquaintance, we will
call 1t.
She told him about herself; she was
visiting her aunt, who had summer
home, the Larches, and her own
home was in New York. He was very
much interested, was this susceptible
youth with the earnest eyes, and he
told her about himself
He was writer Of things" as he
expressed it. Wrote stories, you
know, for the magazines-which were
accepted-he could not tell why, but
they WERE and he considered himself
in luck, since so many of the "scrib-
blers" who wrote better stuff" had
their efforts returned with nice lit
tie printed slip saying that the ac.
companying Ms. was Unavailable"
Now the real truth of the matter
was that the young man was born
"writer of things" His stories did
not cause those who read them to
think that their author had been pos
sessed of stray idea, upon which he
had enlarged and built additions, and
which he had stretched out and pull
ed and hauled. until the whole seemed
mass of meaningless sentences,
with perhaps love scene or bitter
parting thrown in to make it Inter
estingly real
do you know" she said, II have
an idea?"
Have you, indeed? just what I
lack. Was just trying to rake up one
when you came around that boulder
there, and gave me the most delight
full surprise | ever had in my life. But
tell me all about the idea; perhaps it
would help me out"
well" she said blushing at the
compliment, Il think that if we take
that path right up there, we shall
reach the Larches."
"Oh, is that all"
Beg pardon, what did you say?"
she asked, abstractedly.
81 was saying, you know, that am
very sorry that our conversation must
end; however, hope it will not be
the termination of our acquaintance.
You see, I'm sort of lonely fellow
came up here among strangers for a
rest, and ! should like TO know you
better, really"
He was standing beside her as he
said this and looked down into her
pretty face, and spoke the words
very earnestly. Our demure maid,
however, chose to ignore the remark,
and said, as they were walking along:
why, of course, | ought to have
remembered this path; it leads d.
rectly into the grounds. and remem-
Der now that Jack and me walked up
this way the last time he was here.
So stupid of me"
Tom said nothing, but he thought
to himself that he wished thata"Jack,"