Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1903-07-23
w III T. N
THE MOON
BURNED
ID FIJI By WINTHROP
AN - ~ ALLEN

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"Do fairies thrive in China or do the
maidens of the moon affect the garb
Celestial?"
Hugh Cannon gazed curiously at the
figure in the dainty kimono as he
spoke.
Neither" she replied, with a rip
pling laugh. II am an ordinary NOR
tai like yourself, driven by the heat to
the housetops did not suppose that
any one else would be here at this
hour, and there was no use trying to
Sleep"
Il have observed" said Cannon la
Zily, "that in fathouse of this sort
the inhabitants are so afraid of being
compared to the dwellers of tenements
that they deprive themselves of many
privileges, including the roof in sum-
mer. After the heat of the last three
days I'd be willing to brave public
opinion rather than put in another
night in that stuffy pigeonhole down
stairs"
81 feel equally desperate responded
the girl, but her voice sounded brisk
and alert as compared to the weary,
dragging tones of the man. "And as
we have decided to suffer in the open
rather than conceal our anguish per-
haps"- She hesitated, but the far
away look had come back in Cannon's
eyes. He was staring again at the
hazy, crimson glow that hung over a
distant roof garden. "You, believe,
are Mr.. Cannon unless your doorplate
bears false Witness"
"You can't expect much from a ten
cent doorplate,' laughed Hugh, pulling
himself together. ''But in this case it
tells the truth. 1 am Hugh Cannon,
very much at your service. And you
are the girl across the hail."
She laughed in turn, that ripping,
yet self reliant laugh which Hugh had
heard more than once across the hall.
II admit the charge. am Patrice
Birchard, and, according to the ethics
of fiat life, we should have met across
the dumbwaiter shaft weeks ago. Now
as we have at last come together in
this most unconventional fashion tell
me am I interrupting you? The jani-
tress informs me you write. If you are
shaping up plots here in the moonlight,
don't hesitate to say SO, and I'll CO."
Don't think of it." he urged, catch
ing fold of her kimono in detaining
hand. Indeed I am not thinking up
plots! This awful heat seems to have
gone to my head, and was doing moth
ing better than having bad half hour
with my conscience. 1t is not good in
hot weather to admit even to yourself
that you are failure, but up here in
the quiet my thoughts would travel
that way. 1 can understand now why
men go forth to seek the eternal heat
in the summer time
She shot startled glance in his di-
rection. "Is it as bad as thatY' she
murmured softly.
Worse" he admitted. 'T don't
know why should bore you with my
troubles, but it eases my mind to talk.
Six months ago came to town to win
my way as a story writer. I have
placed four short stories and have had
forty come back. The serial upon
which / counted the most was the
worst blow of all. Half the publish
ers wouldn't read it at all; were
showed under with manuscripts. l
took it to d new, practically unknown
publisher last week, and he agreed to
have it read some time. If it comes
back, I'm going to quit. 1 can work
on farm if can't write"
II know just how you feel" said the
girl. 81 draw, and that's worse than
writing. At one time it seemed to me
that the world was dead to art, and l,
too, wanted to go home. 1t was hard
fight, but I stayed, and now Pm glad
did. Don't give up, for the tide will
turn when you least expect it. Perhaps
If I'd illustrate one of your stories"-
A flush mantled her cheek, and she
paused nervously.
would you do it? If had you for
a partner, know l could succeed"
Ills NOlCG dlAlOSJ DIOhC ObSA bAC WOAOos
my ideas are not half bad, but have
no name, no standing. But your pic
lures would catch the editors eye.
Will you chance with me on story or
twow
She took his outstretched, trembling
hand.
"It is promise" she declared.
He leaned back against the chimney
and half closed his eyes.
"Id like to write story" he mused,
'and put you in just as you are, per-
feet picture in that kimono. The gold
embroidery gives just the right touch,
and the rich red in contrast to the
white of your throat and the dark
masses of your hair-oh, wish was
an artistv' he broke off disconnectedly.
She laughed in an embarrassed fash
ion, and the swift flush again man.
tied her cheek, but he did not seem
to notice it.
"Some day / will draw a picture Of
you as the hero. Well have to open
up an exchange bureau In condiments