The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1900-03-23
NOT To PUBLISH.


himself with almost W. "'t ..
ing bricks without STRAW
round | wish-there
I'd never learned how tC
And yet 1t had paid
coin, so far. One O.
dreams was realized t'o t.. ~
his writing room oHeti
burban roadway alOr
wheels seldom rattl.G 'r
away from the whirr ard Gra
town, where his nerves go
tension all day long. Re r..
pose in peace. And yet ne
the bitter, idle stare clG,c, n, Il IT.
pen.
The door behind crca tod; . woman
glided in on tiptoe, Don't start
it's only l." she whispered
Don't start" He threw down the
pen without turning. IT'S all starts
or the strain of expecting them. I'm
sick of it, tell you-sick OF it all"
"What is the matter?" She had
paused halfway, with hands together.
Cant you write?"
Write! I've nothing to write. I'm
drained dry. And promised tragic
story"--with a half sneer-''for that
Society Sum- Tragic! What's the
time?"
1T must be nearly g."
six? Dark in another hour-dusk
now! I've done nothing. And you
you never attempt to help me, by so
much as a world"
Never help you?" she echoed; and
repeated it to herself. 81 never help
him! 80. But when have you asked
such a thing What good would be
my ideas?"
ooh, not much. Women seldom
have real ideas-theyre fitting super
fatalities. Still'-
A long silence. The door creaked
again, but he knew she had only
closed it, and was still lowering be-
hind him. He was somewhat sur
prised, but would not turn, vaguely
conscious of the sneer's hollowness.
Then
81 never help you" she repeated,
calmly. would you like me to try?
perhaps something has just come
into my mind 1t is silly, maybe as
tell it; but you-my husband, might
make it clever and interesting. You
as. you first set them down"
DO /? Well, what is ito" he said,
staring across at the opposite roofs.
This situation is novel. Go on.
! Never mind as long as there is any
/ thing at all in it,"
/ There is-there is a woman's heart
in it, think" she whispered. as
that any good?"
"Oh!" he said. Her voice had tail
| ed off as If she had a real idea, but
! was afraid of thS sneer well, there
usually is-that's one of the COM
ponent parts of the average story.
Even humor is the brighter for trag-
edy lurking in the background, you
know. Anything in the heart that's
the point Yes; anything in this
hearth"
Another silence Couldn't l tell
you just as it came to me, them" she
said. I'm not clever enough to know
...... It's more of a sketch, perhaps.
II imagined two lovers, very dear
lovers. They got married, and there
was a beautiful world before them,
with such peace at the end, If they
knew! Make the man an artist. He
lived for his art. The girl-the girl
was only just girl; she lived for the
man. She hung on his every word,
you might say; she prayed for his
success when he was never there to
hear, thought for him in ways that
he would never know, and checked
her singing, and moved always so
softly, so that he should never be dis
turbed at his work-You're not
writing. Is it so silly?"
GO on" he whispered There
there's nothing to write yet"
That went on for years. The man,
deeper and deeper in his work, never
saw that his wife was changing. that
the light had gone out of her eyes.
He forgot all he had meant to be
forgot after time even to kiss her;
and the girl-she could never bring
herself to remind him Ell? She
still lived only for him, but he never
cared what she wore, never thought
that her work might be hard in its
little way, and that there are some
women for whom years of such sill
ence and loneliness spells death-or
worse. She was always crying at
first, and never dared to tell him why
If he did net see for himself, and
kept out of his way so that his mind
should not be spoiled for work. And
he-say that he thought it was some
thing else, and spoke harshly and
sneered, and at last got so that he
lived in a world of his own, and
wouldn't open his door when-when
he knew that her heart was burst
ing outside, longing for one kind word
again. -. Or-or-something like
that. Could you begin anything with
that?"
No answer. She could not see, but
the mans outward stare was as IL it
would never again relax She went
on little faster, her voice taking a
thrill-just as though his silence i'm
piled that there might be real dra-
matte possibilities in her small in
spiration.
81 think my husband could-yes!
The world is used 10 seeing the man
grow Indifferent, and the woman cold
and pale; but you-you might take
he tragedy as 1t is within the four
wallis, and make 1t live and throb in
there. You might put 1t that at first
the mans mistake was In always
straining forward to his goal, forget
ting that the happiest time is now
forgetting how, when he looks at last
he will not find just the same laugh
ing girl as he married. -. Often he
left her, we will say; he wanted cheer
full faces and relaxation after his