The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-06-17


For you could not live without me-"
There were nine other verses. and to
Poston this piece seemed the gem OF the
wondered why ne did not enthuse more
over it's possession
IF he wants to put any more in he can.
can't hep asked Simsie. He thinks you'll
want a good many after this"
"Well. not for quite while" said Poston,
stroking his chin refiectively. He glanced
down at the cheap little frock that Simsie
wore, and the thought came to him that
one weeks cigars would keep her In clothes
for year.
''Wher will you pay for 'em?" she asked.
Not till after they come out. suppose"
.'well, that's the usual thing" He had
not thought OF this matter of payment. OF
course something was due TO Old Massey.
but how much or when 1t should be paid
were not matters he had considered very
deeply
He thought he could get enough out o.
these verses to pay some o. the rent. It's
away behind, but the man is awfully good
to us. We don't make much out o. the
shop. but now we've got a start on the
paper with our poetry we ought to do pref
ty well, don't you Think"
"Oh. yes" temporized Poston-
Then Simsie ducked her head to make
her highly effective bow and withdrew
silently.
Hang this job anyway" growled Pos
ton. He glanced at his neatly written
manuscript, folded 1t fiercely and laid 1t
away in his drawer. 1t was a week before
he had the heart, or the lack Of 1t, to take
''Old Massey's roast" as he called it. out
of the drawer. finish it up and hand II to
different and very ingenious lies to account
for the holding back of the manuscript, and
there were few throbs of indecision as
he handed it over.
The matter was set in type and the proof
was sent down to Poston from the COM
posing room. While he was reading 1t and
facilitating himself sweetly upon some of
his happy phrases Simsie came in and sat
beside him.
HE got kind O. anxious an. wanted to
know If anything had happened. You know
you had the poetry quite long while
eight days"
''Yes, but how did you get in?'
az told em outside I was a friend o.
yours"
''Oh, WELL" said Poston, "the poetry's in
type now. and IT'S going in next Sunday
'Oh, it goes in the Sunday Hurruld
That'n be grand. We thought it 'ud come
out most any day, an we've been lookin'
all over the paper. even among the yer
tisements.''
She went out, and in hour came back
with two more poems.
HE thought that you'd want some ahead.
so he's writin' whole lot. These is both
sad He said you seemed to like the sad
ones best. I believe he likes to write that
kind"
'Oh, 1t doesn't matter. I don't know
how many more we can print" said Pos
ton. wondering what to say or do. Then he
noticed a feeling of keen disappointment
in the child's manner and expression.
"Well." he said you'd better leave these
any way
She laid the manuscript upon the table
and went away. AS she walked out he
noticed that her shoes were very ragged.
Perhaps
He ran out into the hallway and caught
hold of Simsies arm as she stood by the
elevator.
Look here" he said, handing her what
loose change he had in his possession. 1--WE
want to pay this much on account. Well
pay the rest after the first poems are pub
lished."
The child's face turned pale with excite
ment, and her hands trembled as they
;o1
something, but failed. She glanced up at
Poston. with eyes that pictured the fullness
of her heart She put the coins into her
pocket and held her hand in it to keep
them from falling out. She gave little
gasp as she got into the elevator, and then
looked back at Poston, with a fixed stare,
which the sudden dropping of her face and
form from his sight broke abruptly.
Poston went back to his box and sat a
long time looking out of the window over
the roofs (for the Herald building was
taller than any other in the neighborhood
and the editorial rooms were on the four
teenth fioor) and down at the people, who
from that view of them sprawled their
legs and spread out like four-footed ami
mails. with no apparent height, their heads
shoulders prodigiously large and out OF
proportion. He had what he called a snap
assignment, which consisted of taking a
skates" story and rewriting it-some-
thing that he was frequently called upon
to do and which made him more lofty than
was necessary. He had prided himself on
the fact that no "skate" ever recognized a
line of his own work after he had re-
vamped il. But he was not thinking OF
the article that lay on his desk nor OF
anything besides Simsie and the Bard OF
the Bakery, and of the fact that his
roast of Old Massey would be made up
that evening and go to press as soon as the
daily paper was run off. He looked along
up Market street, past the Phelan statue
up to where the Lady of the Dome of the
City Hall lifted her torch. 1t was even
ing and there was world Of pink in the
sky beyond the Twin Peaks, for the sun
had just gone down over the great gray
Pacific, and the Lady on the Dome was
standing out in dull black against the sky.
To him. rejecting, she seemed the embodi-
ment OF Old Massey's dream of fame. and
as she faded into the gathering darkness
the dream seemed to blur out and lose It.
self in nothingness. What would Old
Massey say when he read that article!
What would Simsie say?