Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1903-01-22
"Just as you like. l mean it's no

Gust as you like. l mean it's no
trouble" she repeated.
! He threw back the door. She
/ studiously avoided looking pointedly
round, but she could not help seeing
something that brushed away another
| slice of the mystery-a table in the
corner by the window covered with
writing paper. That's what he did,
then, wrote all day long. He had no
! carpet down; in five minutes her
small broom had lightly ficked
round the walls; in five more her
long one had gathered up the worst
of the dust and fue He waited on
the landing outside. AS she brushed
the heap past him he held out two
| coins that had grown hot in his hand.
He knew that she often thoroughly
cleaned a room for fourpence.
whats that for?" she whispered,
sharply-a girl who seldom saw &C.
casion to whisper. Put it back, or l
won't ask to do it again. You know
betterl"
81 know you're kind" he said
again, past throat lump. These
these rooms soon get dirty"
| They do, in six or seven weeks. He
went in; the dust has subsidized. She
knelt there, wringing her flannel, and
/ picturing him at the table in the
corner. No, she should never dare
to offer to cook him a meal. It
| seemed the most ridiculous thing in
| the world that day, but, somehow, her
| heart was beating faster under the
! blouse, that suddenly seemed too
| shabby for the daylight, at the
thought that she had done him that
morseI O. good" He was one of the
men who painfully needed some one
! to look after them, and, in the nature
/ of things, that some one could only
/ be a woman. 1t was all we'll to have
broken hearts" Busy fingers are
the things a helpless man needs.
And after that-after that Gyp,
( supremacy unconscious of her own
tact, found regular opportunities of
doing him ,----- little service. No one
knew; and if he could never seem
to find his voice in thanks he seemed
to know that any mention Of payment
would bring the blood surging into
her ceheks. Just as you may find a
fiawIess kernel in a fool of a husk, SO
you may have the heart of a true
woman beneath an impossible bodice.
Gyp did it for the love Of the thing.
If any one had suggested that she did
| it for the love Of the man Gyp might
have found herself unable to answer.
The lower door of the tenement
generally stood open. One day, at an
hour when most of the occupants
were out, Gyp saw a tall, aristocratic
old gentleman, with white hair
fringing his silk hat, staring in
credulously in.
"Does-does my son lodge here?
l mean, Mr.. Mereditu?" he asked,
keeping back some emotion.
There's one right at the top" she
said, eying him doubtfully. Eyes,
think he's in. Pll-Fll show you
They went up. She pointed and
then retreated to the next landing.
Not for her life could she help listen
ing. She heard a husky Frank"
| and then dull bound, as if the man
| in there had leaped convulsively from
his writing table. And then
What! I asked you not to try and
find me. 1 told you"
my boy! I've searched all New
York for you. You-here, in this
den! Frank, you know l never meant
half of what | said"
But you said it. I was a good for
nothing-I could go. l simply took
you at your word. Perhaps, when l
can show you that I'm not SO worth
less I'll think of coming back. Not
before! You mustn't come here.
You need not worry. 1 can exc out
a living by writing, and I'm in
hopes"
But, my boy, it's impossible-it's
starvation! Look at you now! People
are saying let you go to your ruin!"
"To just the reverse, it may be.
Dad, if I have your obstinate, hasty
spirit, that is hardly my fault. I've
had to swallow the lump; I'm quite
comfortable here, whatever the place
is. No, you had better not come in
side. You'll go bac- and say I'm
mad I'm not. I'll tell you this
much: I'--his voice trembled here
Tive been writing book-a novel.
I'm in hopes it may be the beginning
of an end. 1 sent it off last week.
I've worked at it night and day. If
it comes back-if it fails-then I'll
realize that I've made the mistake Of
my life; and I may make another
But it won't. I can't talk about it
you'd never understand. You'll know
SOON"
MY boy, you know it will come
back-you know what things are!
You're an unknown. Publishers play
upon names nowadays; they're bound
to. You know we'll why, I'd have
pad for it to be printed and let you
have your fair chance. You'd be
certain then of getting a hearing. ]
don't wish to thwart your ideas, but
let me pay that"
A pause, as if he we're struggling
against the sharpest temptation that
ever came to a man clutching the
lowest rung of that slippery ladder.
Then came an amazing answer.
mo! No, sir A month ago I
might have thought twice of that;
but now-now l feel that l want my
book to stand upon it's merits. You
don't know what a book becomes to
its author. Heaven knows l had to