Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1899-06-09


showed me by her wide-open eyes that
my reputed falling was well known
even In that quarter. l left message
that my rose gardens were at the la
dies disposal and fed.
That morning had put the finishing
touches on my new work, 'Roses and
Their Cultivation and for want of
something better to do began a novel.
Before l had proceeded far knew 1t
would never see publication, for it was
a partly imaginative account of my
own affairs, and as l progressed l be-
gan to weave a little romance about
Phyllis and myself, foolish thing for
an old bachelor to do, of course. Then
l decided to wait, at a certain point,
and let the situation develop itself.
1t developed rapidly the next day; In
the morning l received daintily writ
ten note from Mrs. Sterling, express
ing thanks for the roses, and inviting
me to tea for that evening. l accepted
the invitation, it is needless to relate,
and 1t may be of interest to add that 1
did myself credit. They discovered l
was quite equal to such a social func-
ton, and l trembled not, neither did 1
grow purple in the face and STAN
mer."
Things went merrily for several
weeks. saw my neighbors frequently,
and Phyllis and l often talked across
the dividing wall from our respective
gardens.
Then, when 1 had rescued my reputa-
ton from the clutches of Mrs. Peabody
by my own courage and perseverance,
that courage failed me at the critical
moment.
How was l going to inform Phyllis
that didn't want to be bachelor any
longer? l was sure that it was a mat
ter OF no consequence to her; dreaded
to appear in the role Of an ancient
adorer. I'm not SO old, after all. 1
could see Genevieve's mirth ready to
break out at any unguarded moment.
Mrs. Sterling was evidently sympa-
thetic, but Phyllis-she was Indifferent.
AS my only consolation / finished up
that novel with happy ending, placed
1t in one of my little blue covers, and
buried it away, with many signs, in a
drawer of my desk, with several others
similarly bound, and straightway for
got all about its existence.
One day Phyllis begged me to allow
her to read the original manuscript Of
"Roses and Their Cultivation" before
it was sent off to the publisher De-
lighted to fulfill her wish, went to my
study and seized the desired volume,
which l gave to her. Then hurried
to catch the afternoon train to the city,
as had some urgent business to trans
act there.
The next day, perceiving Phyllis in
her. Before had been there six min
utes knew something was amiss. She
semed embarrassed, and although she
kept her face turned away could see
that even her little ears were a deep
pink. Her voice, usually so frank and
clear, responded to my commonplace
remarks in low, hesitating tones.
"Well, Miss Phyllis, did you enjoy the
manuscript
VERY much" came in scarcely audi
BILE tones.
"If you care for 1t you may have that
copy, as have another 1 can send to
the publisher" continued, cheerfully.
A pair of startled eyes met mine and
dazed voice repeated:
''The publisher? Surely, o, surely,
Mr.. Gay, you never intended to publish
this!"
She held out my supposed treatise on
"Roses," and, shades of my ancestors,
on close inspection 1 recognized that
novel! In my haste had given her the
wrong manuscript!
Phyllis was evidently angry. If ever
a bashful man was in tight fix, was.
first Gained her anger by explain
ing the mistake; told her had only
written the novel for my own amuse-
ment, for which imprudence 1 now
humbly apologized; then, blind as I
was, did not notice how sad her face
became as continued:
81 never intended you to see It; of
course it is all fiction, pure and simple,
especially simple. Every word of 1t
fiction"
20! only fiction, Mr.. Gay?" she said,
a trifle stiffiy.
Then my good angel turned a ray of
light into my darkened mind, for an
swered promptly, with the courage of
my conviction:
at is in your power to make it truth,
Phyllis. Will you, dear?"
And she murmured "Yes."-Ex.
change.
SIEEPING BAG LIKE AnIISE