Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1901-01-30
The Story of a Story.
BY ALBERT LEE.


sorting the Week :Wo|u0S -
was. smoking his after-luHc.heon
cigar and; humming quietly as he
GLANCED OF, the, various supeJscrip
SiSf's;;. @sfrhins nneapsciauslyyc for any =.
familiar handwriting OF postLSrE' e
pres?nssy p..~-~-s >. - - =.
the door, followed almost Immediately
by the entrance OF the assistant art
editor, who bore every outward ap'
pearance, of being extremely ANNOYED.
What's up now?" asked the editor.
''t'm in q hole: teighton:" replied
tie Resistant: It. ean't get aiiytfine
6ttrot Ven Beck" :: -
"Whassv tie. matter. with Won Beck:?ss
,,'sap'rainfd his ankle or fell 9ff hlS II
bicycle, or something don't know,
Be's.a week late with that illustration
for Forbes's story, and the plates for
that form have to be cast the first
Of next week. Here it is Wednesday,
and he, sends word he's laid up"
The assistant art editor waved his
arms in a gesture of despair. :,
do';Hs, tnes iotl waRFh with his feet:
does she?" asked Leighton: =
'T wish he'd work little with his
head. sent Johnny up with a note
this morning, and he brought it back
unopened. The janitor had orders
not to let any one up to see Van
Beck"
"Wel?" queried Leighton, patiently.
"Wen, what, shall do? Id go up and
haul him out of ped myself, If / could;
but caR't. Chapman's away, and " 6
got to stay here IN the office: There's
Id USE sending any more boys. up:
SUPPOSE We throw out Forbes's, story;
and put in that article on toadstools-
isn't this the; toadstool season.
"Rot,;. Mac retorted Leighton, ,"You
know we can't throw out Forbes.
I'd rather print the. story without the
illustration. But can't we get hook
on Won Beck some way? He ought
to be able to finish the drawing in
bed"
"Of course" answered Mac, "if any
body could go up there and pound the
, Importance Of it into his Dutch head"
leighton looked with d panied sx;;
Preston at Mac; and then gazed
tb6ughtfuily out Of, the window: 4
Gentle breeze, was shaking the leaves
Of the. potted geraniums on the tene-
Iaent fre-escape across the way.
"You are not very busy this after;
noon; are you, old fellow?" resumed
Mac. persuasively.
Nothing but manuscripts" an
swered Leighton, turning from the
geraniums. @
"Why can't you chase up to Won
Beck's? You could take batch Of
That stuff along with you, and read
it on the elevated
leighton turned in Ills chair; and
asked:
''Where does Won Beck liye?"
''Ninety-something street" said
Mac; with alacrity: "I'll find out" and
BE rushed, shouting for his stenogra;-
pier; down the little passage that led
to his own department: Leighton
sighed and picked up pile Of long,
thin enyeloyes. He snapped a heavy
rubber band around them, put on his
coat, and. taking his straw hat,
strolled out into the hallway, where
Mac was fuming and expostulating
with a weary looking young woman
who had spent two minutes Of vain
search for Won Beck's address among
the BIS. Then Mac seized the book
himself, and scrawled the house and
street number on piece Of paper.
Leighton walked slowly through the
narrow streets and across the City
Hall park to the elevated railroad
station, and ensconced himself by an
open window, in one Of the double
seats of the rear car Of the train. 1t
was comparatively early in the after
noon, and there were few other pas
sengers. He pulled out an envelope,
opened the manuscript. and set to
work reading slowly, unconscious of
his surroundings. AS he finished his
study of each contribution, he made
a cabalistic mari, upon the envelope,
for the benefit o. his clerk, and re-
placed it in the bundle on his lap.
AS the trair drew uptown, the cars
filled slowlJ and finally at Fourteenth
street some one took the seat next
to Leighton. He merely glanced in
that direction, saw that it was young
woman in a pink shirt-waist and a
sailor hat, moved a little closer to
his window, and proceeded with the
reading Of the story that her approach
had interrupted. 1t was evidently not
to his taste, for he. soon began glanc-
ing rapidly over the last few type
written pages, then folded the paper,
marked the envelope and started on
the next. He was conscious of the
fact that his neighbor was stealing
furitive glances over his shoulder, but
this did not annoy him-she was
welcome to such information as her
curiosity might acquire from his
rapid turning of the pages. He read
steadily and scratche here and
there with his blue pencil, and looked
occasionally out of the window to
keep his bearings. He disposed or
several articles on scientific and
social subjects, which did not seem
to interest his neighbor very much,
for she turned to her, afternoon paper,
but when he picked up the only blue
envelope in the pack, addressed in
g heavy, rectangular hand, he noticed
that she folded the extra" into a
tight roll, and assumed position so
erect that she could easily look over
his shoulder on to the page in his
hand. These things he remembered
afterward' At the time he was
merely conscious OF slight jarring
against his elbow.
The manuscript was neatly typewrit-
ten, and he turned to it with pleasure,
after the strain Of deciphering that
last essay on "Esoteric Buddhism" ;"
1t was love story, and he smiled ur
consciously at the conventional way