The Press., 1901-01-03
AHappyNiStake


 ing worried to the verge of distraction. At last I drew from him that The Weekly Wag is wagging all the wrong way and is bound to go to the wall unless he can secure a few articles from some comic writer of note. But, though he has written to several with that object, nothing has come of it.
 "In a word, the paper has turned out a ruinous investment for me-" he con- cluded bitterly.
 AS came up stairs, feeling utterly miserable and depressed, a happy thought darted into my mind. Men don't like refusing a request when framed by feminine lips, so perhaps may succeed where poor dad has failed. At any rate, without a trial there's no denial," and a recent incl dent opens the way for me to make the trial
 A few days ago, while aunt and were willing away an hour in the Brit ish museum, she bowed to a librarian. He responded to her recognition with a courtly bow, and a polite smile re- faxed for the moment his clean shaven, inscrutable face.
 'That was the celebrated MT. Rut- land, the writer of those clever arti- cles, my dear. I met him last week at Mrs. Pelham's," she explained as we passed on into another room.
 Seeing that she had turned as red as a peony, 1 concluded that he was a celibate as we'll as a celebrity! But he certainly did not look bit like imag- ined him, for, strange to say, dad had been speaking of him to me that same morning, when he had enviously pointed out an attractive announce ment in a rival weekly to the effect that a series of brilliant sketches from the pen of the widely known humorist, Rolf Rutland, would shortly appear In its columns. I am very glad now that we chanced to see him, since 1t paves the way for me to call on him and ex- plain in confidence the sad straits of The Weekly Wag and beg of him to contribute something to it's pages.
 Aunt mentioned that he lives at For est Gate, in a beautiful residence known as Olive Lodge. So tomorrow morning shall take heart of grace and start on this forlorn hope.
 Sept. 5, 1897, 1:1O p. m.-What a day of days this has been! I really ought to have dated 1t in red ink. This morn ing directly the dear, unsuspecting dad had started for the city, put on my sailor hat and sallied forth on my se- cret mission.
 About two hours later I mounted a broad flight of steps to the threshold of Olive Lodge, and 1 must confess that while waited admittance my courage seemed to ooze out of my finger tips. "You are little simpleton, Rose Har- vey, quaking and shaking as though you were going to face an ogre instead of wit," I said angrily to myself as a boy in buttons ushered me into a large drawing room, very handsomely fur nished, but lacking in pretty trifes. Giving the boy my card I subsided into an easy chair. AS I did so I caught sight of myself in a pier glass, and was relieved to see that I looked perfectly self possessed-which I cer- tainly did not feel.
 The next minute the curtained door swung open, and ''the celebrated MT Rutland' entered the room Unless l was much mistaken a gleam of relief flashed from his steel gray eyes as they | alighted on me. Possibly, since my aunt and I bear the same names, he had expected to see her, and of 1.-two evils" would rather deal with the less. | CT! Producing the current number ot The Weekly Wag, I explained-rather abruptly, I'm afraid-the nature of my visit.
 While he listened his gaze of polite attention became stare of unbounded amazement, and, instead of accepting the proffered paper, he sprang to his feet with an exasperated gesture. '"This Is most preposterous request young lady! It is utterly out of the question that any article from my per should appear through the medium ot The Weekly Wag."
 The sighting emphasis with which he named the poor little weekly, anG the whitening glance he cast on it made me jingle with rage and mortifi | cation.
 '"Then there is nothing more to bt | said, except to apologize for having troubled you with this 'preposterous request" I said, rising to my feet l And making him stiff little bow, moved toward the door. He had ths politeness to hasten to open it for me and passed out with all the dignity could summon. At the same momen the hall door was hastily opened, and { tear blurred vision of a tall, straigh figure in cricketing fannels made mt redouble my efforts to repress my in clination to burst out crying. Removing his cap the young fellow held the door open for me, and Keeping my smarting eyes bent on the ground hastily made my exit. Never in all the 19 years of my life had felt so an noyed and resentful.
 "So much for my happy thoughtv '' I reflected briefly, as I descended the deep stairway into the station. Hay ing ascertained that my train was not due for 15 minutes, fell to pacing the platform, where the Haunting posters of many a prosperous cOmpeer of the luckless little weekly I still grasped gave a yet keener edge to my disap- pointment. Turning in my perambu- lation I was surprised to see the fian- nel clad figure of my tear blurred vision hurrying toward me.
 "The old bigwig has repented of his insulting refusalv' thought hopefully while bowed in response to the young fellows doff of cap.
 Excuse me, Miss Harvey, but there has been some unfortunate mistake and have followed you here in the hope of strengthening matters" he said, his quick breathing and height ened color testifying to the hot haste he had made. T am the Rolf Rutland who scribbles nonsense; my uncle is a savant, and only writes for the scien' tiac journals"