The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1900-08-04

''It is not possible for Dorothy tc
see you," she was ever saying to visi'
tors. "She's busy all day at hei
writing, and at evening she is too tir.
ed to see company"
Poor DR.. Felix He was only a
young village doctor, working up a
practice, and very much in love with
Dorothy. He did not know much
about genius, but he was certain that
Dorothy was the dearest girl he ever
saw. What was this sudden flight OF
genius that had caught her away
from earth and set her like fixed
star in the sky, and where was the
Jacobs ladder which he might mount
to bring her down, and had he right
to do this?
''I should think he would want to
see me. / should think he would
call. He has never come since that
check came. Oh, that story I wrote,
and the the thousand stories 1 can't
write / hate them all p
Then Dorothy would think of the
look she had seen in DR.. Felix's eyes
that beaming, kindling glance of
his, and she thought she would rath-
er see that than all the grand sights
of earth or sky. She would rather
hear his voice and his laugh than all
the birds songs and wind dirges which
the poets describe.
One day when Dorothy's mother
had turned the key in the study door
Dorothy stepped out of the window
and struck out for some woods near
her home. Once under cover of their
shadow she drew long breath, she
took off her hat and loosened her hair
and started up stream, following the
course of the brook through the
woods over the meadow beyond, then
up the hillside, steep it grew and
sleeper until the brook became bab-
bling, sparkling waterfall, as it came
over the great rocks. 1t was a ro-
mantle place, and here, if here, a poet
ought to have had poetic thoughts.
Alas, for Dorothy. She had not one,
she looked at the catnip in the cre-
vice and thought of her sick kittens,
she just put her little white teeth into
the water crosses she had picked and
devoutly wished she had some bread
and butter with them, then she took
her belt, tore the manuscript into fine
bits and dropped them into the water.
AS she was watching the one disap-
pear in the shadowy distance she saw
a man come around the angle of the
rock. He was wading in the brook,
a fsh-basket hung around his neck
and a rod in his hand /; he wore a
great hat and queer wet-water cos
tune from head to foot. But Doro-
thy knew him afar off, and her heart
gave leap though she looked as
calm as lily. As for DR.. John Felix,
ssHong IA as 1fffttesd ffttsd the 'dap Of his hat and
looked up at her.
"Hello |" he faltered. "Is it your"
Dorothy nodded and waved her
hand, she hoped he would not see
how glad she was. She looked up so
quiet when he came eagerly up the
bank to her, and she made him go
back again into the water and get the
catnip out of the crevice, and she
laughed outright when he lost his
footing and went all over into the
deep pool, but she sobbed hysterical-
1y because he did not come up right
away, and she took her handkerchief
and wiped the water off of his face,
though her own face was streaming
with tears, and without intending to
she called him "my dear boy" and
he said, "you are the dearest girl,
Dorothy" and he took her up in his
arms for good hug though she was
a great genius and he dripping with
cold brook water.
"What will become of the poetry
and the stories when we are married."
he asked, when they were sitting to-
gether upon the sunny rocks, happy
lovers in spite of wet clothes.
"I haven't an idea, John, but I'll
marry you and find out"
Mrs. Greenhill yielded to the inev-
liable as gracefully as she could, es-
pecially since it turned out that DR..
Felix had lately come into fortune.
She wore a new velvet gown to the
wedding, it was Dorothy's present to
her from the proceeds of her second
accepted manuscript. For, strange
to say, when Dorothy's heart was free
and her fancies light and sweet and
happy in the bloom of love, she began
to write again and the publishers sent
checks once more. And after she
was Mrs. John Felix and had a sew
ing machine and made a world of
pretty little frocks and gowns, she still
wrote stories to her hearts delight,
but never until she had lived them
herself-dear Dorothy.