The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1901-02-26

He's Thorn, too-a brother to the
girl, my granny says" replied the boy.
as he chased a recreant marble.
This information gave Morrill, in
slant relief. Noble Angie, 1t was a
crippled brother whom she was trying
to support with her pen.
Morrill, went home fully resolved to
help the girl to the entire extent of his
power in her literary efforts. He de-
clined nothing that she wrote for his
magazine. but patiently went over her
work, eliminating crudities and chang
ing word here and there. thus add
ing vigor to the story. Then he wrote
her kind letters OF advice and sent her
books to read. Under his friendly
criticism her style soon improved. and
her fame through the pages of The
Nutshell grew each month. Then the
editor began to be deIuged with letters.
asking all kinds of questions about this
new writer, and several of his editor
friends wrote him, congratulating him
upon his discovery of this new star in
| the production of short stories
Morrill, then wrote Angie, begging
J permission to use her portrait and a
short sketch of herself in his maya
zine. But she firmly refused his re-
/ quests, and Morrill's most eloquent en-
! treaties were futile to change her de-
cision not to give her picture to the
public. Although slightly vexed at
her obstinate caprice, as he called 1t.
he liked her more for not showing a
common vanity"
The park opposite No. TIA became
his favorite resort for taking his con
stitutional." If he caught but a
glimpse of graceful. willowy figure
among the flowers. he went back to
the Office well rewarded for his long
| journey.
One day he found her reading in the
park
do not CO." he begged, as she start
ed to leave. 81 have something of i'm
portance to say to you. You must stay
and listen. / have kept my secret for
months"
He came toward her. and the warm
light in his eyes made her turn pale.
angie. If you will only give me the
right to help you always with your
literary work." he pleaded, hardly
knowing how to tell his story-his
hearts sweet tale-now that he had
begun. You can help me so much,
too; we will"
"Stop!" she cried, a sharp. cruel ring
in her voice. Il have deceived you. l
am not the writer of those stories"
You are testing with me-" he said.
mo; 1 have been the copyist; an
other is the author" her hands work
ing nervously with her book.
But you signed your own name to
the manuscripts" he said.
Yes, because he wished me to do
So"
'He? oh! understand. The stories
were dictated to you by your brother"
Il have no brother" with flushing
cheeks. THE stories were composed
by my husband"
Husband" Morrill, gasped the word
and started back as If she had struck
him.
Yes" she went on in tones thai
seemed to freeze him. My husband
met with an accident that made him
a cripple for life. We came here to
please friend, who insisted that we
should live in this house, rent free.
We are poor and must work. My
husband decided to try writing for
papers and magazines. We both be-
lieved that woman. as beginner in
that field, would get more kindly
treatment from editors, than a man.
So my name was used and / played
author"
She gave a little laugh at her own
cleverness. Morrill, looked into her
eyes with reproach too deep for speech
Then he walked away.
He resigned the editorship of The
Nutshell. and went to Japan as corre-
spondent. Angie Tohrn is sending
MSS. now to other periodicals.