The Republican journal., 1901-01-03
Mrs. MARY J. PERRY,
a2s Spring Street, Portland, Me.

| respectable old joke, which had been
put into the hero's mouth, brought
smile of recognition to Leighton's lips,
| and he saw in the mirror, across the
car, that the young woman positively
| beamed, and even seemed to color He
made mental note about old jokes in
| general. The sentimentalism grew
more intense as the pages turned, the
lover pleaded, the woman spurned him,
the moon came up, soft strains of music
''f1itted across the silent air." and the
young woman in the pink waist gripped
her newspaper, caught her breath and
turned almost half around towards
Leighton. He surmised that she had
read faster than he, and was watching
to note the effect upon him of that last
chaotic, heartrending paragraph.
He folded the manuscript slowly,
conscious as he did so that the weight
on his left shoulder was gradually re-
moved He made some hieroglyphis on
the back of the envelope, and as he did
so the guard shouted his station from
the doorway. Leighton gathered up
| his papers, rose, stole quick glance at
his neigbbor, and started for the door
| just as the train pulled into the station.
He had seen that the girl was not bad
| looking, and her eyes shOne with sup
| pressed excitement. Leighton began to
doubt his editorial Judgment and, as he
walked towards the stairway, he detir-
mined to seek another opinion on that
| story.
Just then some one laid hand on his
arm, and he turned to find himself face
to face with the young woman of the
car. She was bluShing, but she looked
up at him with an air of determination.
Il beg your pardon" she began, Il
hope you will not think me to presum-
| ing, but | simply could not help speak
| ing to you. | could not miss the oppor-
| tunity. | saw you reading the story,
and | felt | must ask you about it.
what is it that can tell you about
the story" he asked. ''To be perfectly
| frank, | noticed you were interested in
| it on the train. Perhaps you will an
sWer some questions for me, toe"
and he led the way to one of the benches
on the platform and asked her to sit
down.
Il hope you did not think l was
| dreadful rude to look over your Shout
der in that way" she began, ''but--'
Not at ALL" laughed Leighton.
! THAT was natural. 1t was entirely
| pardonable.'
Yes, it was" she said, because I
am Miss Ida Barker
| Leighton looked at her with a pleas
ant but perfectly blank expression.
| He did not see the connection. He had
| never heard of Miss Barker He felt
| for a moment as if he ought to have
known at once who Miss Barker was.
The young woman looked at him as if
| she, too, felt that he ought to have
known. If she had said that she was
the Duchess of Marlboro, or the presi
dent of the W. c. I. e., she would have
offered him some ground on which to
base mutual understanding; but the
name Barker conveyed absolutely
nothing to Leighton. Besides he was
in hurry to find Won Beck. He was
about to tell Miss Barker that he was
pleased to meet her, when she resumed:
will you tell me what you really
think about the story"
That's just what | should like to
have you tell me-
But what good would that do?" she
asked. what difference does it make
what | think of my own story?'
Your story" exclaimed Leighton.
Yes, my story. | just told you |
was Miss Barker
Leighton stared at her for moment;
then great light burst upon him. He
jerked the blue envelope out of the
package, opened the manuscript quick
ly and saw written across the top of it
Miss Barkers full name and address,
He colored slightly, and said:
81 had not connected you with the
story at all, Miss Barker. In fact, this
is the first time | have looked at the
authors name. How very odd that
you should have caught me in the act
of reading it. Then, with a smile,
''Do you think it is altogether fair to
hold up defenseless editor in this
way?"
81 suppose not" she admitted, 'but
l thought if you did not want the story,
you could give it back to me now, and
that would save you the trouble of
mailing it and of writing me one of
your complimentary little fibs. Besides,
it is not often that one gets real live
editor into ones hands, just fresh from
ones own manuscript"
Every true" said Leighton, looking
vacantly at the blue envelope. His
confidence in his editorial judgment was
returning. He felt better Miss Bar
ker, after all, was not, as he had imagin-
ed, representative of the great class
of magazine readers. She had turned
ouG W Dt IHo uOSI pIeJuulcou duulenC6
he could have had. He gave a little
sigh of relief.
ut is not usually profitable under
taking he began, ''to tell an author,
especially a woman, the truth about her
literary work; but if you will assume
the responsibility, will tell you honest
ly wherein lie the faults and the merits
of your story
Il will assume the entire responsible
ity," she replied, eagerly, land consider
it privilege"
every well, then," said Leighton and
he at once proceeded to give Miss Barker
a little impromptu lecture on the art Of
story writing. He was earnest and
forceful in his manner, and she listen
ed attentively. She did not like some
of the things he said about her work,
but she could see that they might be
true. He praised what he had liked in
her story, even more than it deserved.
"DOn't be too ambitious" he said.
leave to others to write about heroes
and heroines who love and die. Write
of what you know about. and see be-
fore you. Remember that there is force
in simplicity. Don't lay the color on
too thick. Tell your little tale, and the
color will find it's way in of itself. You
have no idea how many people, all over