The evening times., 1899-05-27
A BLUE PENCIL STORY.

clares he will never again live with his
wife.
A BLUE PENCIL STORY.
Alexander Dawson was at supper with
his pretty wife Rose. 1t was wholesome
and plentiful meal. for Rose, although out
OF active culinary practicable was a
highly expert court stenographer when
Court Reporter Dawson wooed and won
her-still showed that her early training
was not OF an ephemeral type. 1t was a
nice supper in a nice cozy room, with a
remarkably nice young woman on the OPP
posite side of the table, and yet Aleck
wore discontented look.
Same old ogre. dear?" asked Rose, as
she slowly filled his second cup.
Yes" growled Aleck. land more ogre
ish than ever. Stoneman was terribly out
Of sorts today. Brixton had been laying
him for something. and he cut and slashed
the copy like a Malay running amuck.
And had such a beautiful story"
Yes. dear" said Rose, as she Sympa-
thetically put another muffin on his plate.
Less than a column. too" continued
Aleck. land how much do you suppose
Stoneman cut It down? To just twelve
lines, / tell you 1t knocks every flicker
of ambition clear out of a man
TOO bad" sighed Rose.
1t was an old grievance with Aleck. and
she knew it would DO him good to talk
himself out.
Yes" he went on, 81 felt like going
in to Brixton and saying: Here's an inde-
pendent soul you can't put through your
condemned old condensing crusher, but of
course didn't do it. II would have been
too expensive a luxury. Old Stoneman
can't help his share in it. He called me
over to his desk this afternoon and said,
-Sardow-'"
"Sandow?" echoed Rose.
That's Tommy Greggs invention. Tom
my is the office christener. It's Sandie
Dawson condensed. you see."
Its shame"
"Oh. il doesn't bother me bit" laughed
Aleck Rather appropriate. too. l think.
That's the beauty of Tommy's christening
scheme. Everything goes by extreme con-
traries. Well, Stoneman said, Why do you
throw away your time and your talent Ella
borating these stories? You ought 10 know
by this time that they can't go. That stun
of yours today about the old man was clev-
er, but the actual news in ii was all con-
tanned in the few lines l left stone.
answered, you remember that story OF
Poe's where the ceiling slowly but surely
descends upon the doomed wretch? Well.
that's Just the way l feel now. Condens-
ing is squeezing all the ambition out OF
me-. Stoneman laughed. Cheer up. said
he. Maybe. some day. you'll have paper
of your own II do said. 'therell not
be blue pencil within a mile OF it. But
it's the same way every day. l can't throt-
tie my fancy, l can't nail myself down to
the cut and dried facts"
There was brief pause. Aleck finished
his tea shook out his napkin and pushed
back his chair.
Let us sit in the parlor a little while.
said Rose We don't need any light. II
will be a sort of cleaning seance, and
she laughed as she touched the button that
would presently bring up the janitor's
daughter. who helped Rose in her modest
So they sat in the little parlor. Aleck
in the Sleepy Hollow chair that Rose had
given him on his last birthday. and Rose
herself in her sewing rocker by the big bay
window.
Well, we must be thankful for one
Rose said. with restful little
sigh land that is that you are not on
morning paper
Aleck heard her rummaging in her desk
for a moment or two. and then the squeak
OF the little rocker began again.
And now, dear" she continued, Il
want to hear that good story that was so
sadly disfigured by the naughty blue PEN
Gil. Tell it to me just as you wrote it.
word for word. 1t mustn't be entirely
wasted"
Aleck was used to obeying, and besides
he was rather proud of his unmistakable
story telling talent. So out of the depths
of the Sleepy Hollow his voice proudly
arose.
1t was a touching little story; the story
Of a man whose idolized daughter had run
away from her fine home to marry vain
nd
viewed her father, and now he told the
tale in the fathers own words, giving the
very intonations of voice and the peculiar
dialect OF the somewhat illiterate old man.
It was not an unusua! story by any means.
but Aleck told ii so well that he seemed
to invest 1t with an original dignity.
"The white-haired father stood in the
doorway" he said. land with his hand
shading his eyes, looked anxiously up and
1own the street. Perhaps, he slowly said,
what you're a-goin' to put in the paper
will be read by Mandy. II 'tis, she'll
know that the hands that took her from
The arms of a dyin' mother are still
to take her agin-but not with
him, not with him."
AS Aleck paused he noticed that the
little rocker was still.
"And Stoneman cut that down to twelve
ines" he Querulously said.
He arose as he spoke and struck match
and lighted the big lamp on the centre
able. Rose was standing by the desk with
her face in the shadow. Then she turned
md came forward.
why Rose" said Aleck, with swift ten
ierness. you've been crying
Tits the sudden glare of the lamp"
The lamely explained. And Aleck wonder
ID afterward what could have so depressed
Ter.
That was the beginning of long series |
" in-the cleaning conversations, as Rose |
allied them. Every evening of the waning
summer and early fall they would sit in |
he cozy parlor for a half hour or so, and |
lose would draw Aleck into talking over |
he events Of the day. Sometimes there /
would be only grist of trivial incidents. |
And while he talked Rose sat in the sew
ng rocker by the little desk, drumming |
lightly with her pencil and taking good
are not to interrupt Aleck as he lost him.
ng. They were a great relaxation for him,
hese half hour talks. They restored for a
rief while his crushed vanity.
I'm always sure of a select and SYM
athletic audience" he said with boyish
augh.
And he improved. too, as a reconteur !
lie recognized the improvement, and so did
ose. They were no longer aimless little |
appenings that he told. They were dra- |
,atic sketches, full of strength and feel
lg.
Rose met him one afternoon as he came
-om the office.
"Oh." she cried. that was a beautiful
.ory you told me last night 1t was even
ettar than l thought 1t was
Ell" " cried Aleck. with puzzled look.
!