The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1900-12-22
CHAPTER v.

you make me an author, to break my
hearth"
CHAPTER v. Il
The Curse of the Ragged Thirteen.
There were several reasons why I did
not give Mcguire an account Of the
visit with which had been honoured.
In the. first .place,it al 80 unorthodox
that a long explanation would have
been necessary to account for it.; and,
secondly, l had heard Nora Courtney's
story on the strength Of the fact that
I seemed like one who might be trust
ed. Moreover, I should very likely
never see her in the house again. since
I could not return her visit, and, from
what she fold me- 1t was highly i'm
probable that her father would call
upon me.
Mcguire kept firing away at the pub
fishers with his big gun, whilst he
brought his smaller artillery-short
stories and the like-to bear upon the
autocrats of the publishing world was
sublime in its audacity, and many
times resulted in the return of his MS.
editors of papers and magazines and
the way in which he ordered up the
unread.
"Ah! they don't know a good thing
when you see it," he would burst out,
as the postman once more brought the
wanderer home safely. cts my firm
belief, Jack, that Shakespeare was
lucky to write when he did, for If he'd
written in these days. when there's so
many at the game, he'd have been a
fortunate fellow If he hadn't got a
small library of printed matter, and
letters with the Editors compliments
and regrets or a note about want of
space OF some such polite information.
I don't think they've time to read half
what they get"
Then he would seriously consider
the advisability of making pipelights
Of the MS. until talked over by per-
suasive tongue, and, convinced that he
had maligned the race of editors, he
would spend half the day doing it up
again, batting 1t with a letter that
might prove tempting enough to lure
and land some publisher.
The weeks went by and brought US
to the beginning Of August, and all
this time I had never even caught q
glimpse of Miss Nora Courtney, though
I had often seen her father. whose
identity I had established by referring
to the proprietor Of the hotel patron
lied by the elderly Irishman.
. T patrolled the streets at all likely
and unlikely hours. but it was Of no
avail, and I began to suspect that the
young lady was purposely avoiding me.
One day I strolled somewhat farther
a1eld than usual, and found myself in
the midst of a wood, and as I rambled
on from one glade to another I could
not but be a%stonished that these sylvan
scenes existed in such close proximity
to London. I was in the heart Of the
wood when I caught sight of a figure
dressed in white lying in the shade OF
an oak, and as I drew near I recog-
nized Miss Courtney. She was stretch
ed in an easy attitude on the grass, ap-
parently studying a book that lay open
before her, and so absorbed was she
in It's contents. and so soft was the
carpet of verdure on which I trod, that,
without her being aware of my pres
ence, I was able to reach over her
shoulder, to notice that the book, a
child's primer, vas well thumbed and
dog-eared. III. It'll
The solitude Of the place she had
chosen as her study, and the condis
ton Of the book that bore silent testi-
mony to her application, gave me the
idea that she had become ashamed Of
her ignorance and was trying to teach
herself, SO instead Of startling her by
speaking I slipped away noiselessly.
and, making a circuit, anne from
another direction. This time I COM
trived that she should hear me while
I was still at a distance, so that before
I reached her she had hidden away her
lesson-book.
She greeted me with easy courtesy.
'.Sure, you frightened me-" she said,,
as I took her hand.
I'm very sorry" I answered; ..but
what brings you into these whlds,
Miss Courtney? Are you studying bot
any::' \
"No, nm not-Tm learning my lets.
tiers. I didn't see was you at first, so
I hid my book" 8f
The blush that spread over her face
made. her so passing beautiful that I
was sorry 1t was SC ~evanescent.
..And how are you getting on with
your SluOIGS sasf4 dSkSu.a5 ! LOpS YOU
wort think It rude OF me to ask. You
know. you told me that you Couldn't
read" Wax
Well. sometimes I think I'm doing
grandly, and then I come TO q big
word, and I can't tell whether read It
right, for when ] say It out loud 1t
1t never seems to sound like any word
II know, and. Of course, I don't tell my
father. for he wouldn't help me. ana.
if he found me trying to read. maybe
he'd tear@up my book. 4 @
will you let me help you?" I asked.
sitting down beside her. Dol I should
be delighted; and you'll get on ever
so muchKfaster. Let meghear you try.
Where have you got to g. ssss
After a little more 1persusasion she
shyly@opened herEsprimer and pointed
to a row < words Of three syllables.
.sIt's herein trying she said; and
then began the irst Of q series OF les.
sons that brought the keenest plea sure
to the teacher givenSa M they were with.
the woods for asschoolroom and Gods
best piece 81, handiwork; q lovely and
innocent maiden for g pupi)l &
d! they were happy hcurs--happy
then ngthat they brought mesthe pure
Joy thatscalne Of her presence: happy
d sthinkSof now, abecalulseg their n memory