The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1899-08-09

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mentioned the place. OF course she
did not call it "the back woods" She
spoke of it reverently by the tender
name of "home," and usually there
were tears in her eyes when she men,
toned it. But no matter; it was not
New York, therefore it was "the back
woods" they told her when she asked
for work.
"What can you dof" asked the first
editor, and he did not take the trouble
to look up or to stop the pencil that
was scrawling over the paper in front
of him.
Anything you would give a woman
to do" she answered.
"Nothing," he said.
"Good morning." she said.
"Good morning." he said, surprised
into looking up by her prompt depart
ure, but she was gone.
"Bring any stuff" asked the next
one. He was too busy to waste words.
She handed him the little fiat manu-
script silently.
He fingered it a second. 81 don't
want it," he said.
"rhank you. Good afternoon" she
said.
"G'd afternoon" he said.
For the next she had to mount to
the eleventh story, and she looked
dubiously at the sign in the little
ante room: 'We do not undertake to
preserve or return unsolicited manu-
script"
But when the editor came ont he
looked at her really as if he saw her
I'm awfully sorry" he said, "but
just now there isn't thing in sight.
Let me have your address, and if /
hear of anything I'll be glad to give it
to you"
OF course she knew what that meant,
but still she was grateful for the cour-
tesy. In her part of ''the back woods"
people had time to be courteous, and
this man left pleasant memory that
made her almost hopeful of the next.
"What You want to do" the next
one said, and he was very nice about
1t, sis to get place on magazine;
/ wouldn't advise you to go in for
newspaper work. What you want is
q magazine"
"What / want, yes" she said, smil-
ing, "but probably not what 1 can
get"
He smiled, too, very pleasantly, but
still he did not quite like her correct
ing his grammar. The next chanced
to be rosy and round and bald. He
was reading note when she went in,
and he held it in his hand while she
talked. Presently it reminded him of
something.
"Why, the very thing" he said,
briskly. ''Here's n note from my
wife. Just reading it when you came
in. Quite coincidence, surely. You
see, my wife has friend who's a-er
Literary lady, gives talks, lectures,
or some such things. Now, this-er
literary lady is going over into Jer-
sey, to Orange, in fact, to give talk
before n club there, the Ultra Matrons,
you know, and my wife wants me to
send somebody over to report it, But,
of course, | couldn't do that, you
know" He looked up over his glasses
as ii he needed confirmation, doubtless
because he was defying his wifely in
structions, so she mildly said:
"No."
"Of course not" he went on, having
taken heart of grace from her approx
al. "Of course / can't send anybody
out Of the Office for that, but my wife
says" he hesitated moment, then
broke off with; "Now, how would Won
like to run over and do this lecture
for us? Not much in it for you, of
course; we couldn't use more than a
stick at the outside; but better start at
that than at nothing. It's the open
ing wedge you want, you know. What
do you say? Let's see; round trip
ticket to Orange would cost you so
cents; both ways on the elevated, ten;
that's 60. Not much in it for you.
What cay? Will you do it, or not?"
IN do it, thank you," she said.
"fhat's good" he said, folding up
the note in relieved sort of way.
"Thank you. III tell my wife,"
"See here" he said, as she was
leaving, "better take this card and
call for the literary lady in the morn
ing and go down with her. She'll put
yoU through"
She thought he looked like cherub;
she lived to learn he was prophet.
She took the card, had herself awak-
ened early the next morning aud called
Tor the literary lady at the hour ap-