The Press., 1904-06-15
blot For r'''' The Story
 By A. '. PbHgipS
Copyright. 1908. by T. c Mcclure.

chorus Of bird songs aroused Cart right at sunup, and, yawning. he walk ed to the window. From some prehis- torie ancestor, who killed his food with a stone ax while the grass was still wet. Cartright had inherited a passion for tramping through the dew. He dress ed quickly and started out for a brisk walk.
 Cartright was a literary free lance who was slowly winning his way. He had awakened that morning with a feeling known to all who disfigure good white paper with pen or typewriter the desire to write and joy in the pow CT to write. A certain great magazine editor in a kindly letter had asked Cartright for a story. His request was the magic password that admitted one, clad in purple and fine linen, to the society of the truly elect of the liter ary world
 But inspiration refused to come at Cartright's bidding. With an tnstinc- tive grasp of the magazines style he had sketched the principal characters of his story. There must be two-a man and a woman. The former must be fine and sincere and honorable, a gentleman in every respect, who had made a place in the world by his own efforts. The girl must be sweet and true, with softly curling hair and wide, frank, innocent blue eyes. The char acters must be ideal companions, warm friends, but not lovers. Cruel circuN- stances and their own ideals of honor must send them through the world apart, even though their very souls, as if alone in the wilderness, cried each unto the other.
 He could get no further. Plan as be would, Cartright could find no reason to separate the children of his brain. The characters became almost as real to him as living personages. A regret grew up within him at the necessity of parting them, but to preserve the value of the story separation was inevitable.
 He had been mistaken in his feeling that morning that the plot was about to disclose itself, for after break fast it still eluded him. He could not think effectively in his study. The free, wind swept porch and his easy chair and pipe were not the solaces and aids to thought he usually found them. In despair he seized a fishing rod and started for the river, half mile away.
 There. sprawled on a grassy bank. the noon sunshine Altering through the trees and dappling the velvety carpet about him, he set himself anew to his task. Situation after situation, plot on plot, passed through his brain, each to be rejected In turn as impract1cable. At the end of an hour the obstinate characters were still together and hap py in their companionship.
 A log bridge for the accommodation of the rare pedestrians and the rarer ve- hicles crossed the stream a few yards from where he lay. Squirrels chatter ed in the trees, birds fitted overhead Only a faint hum from the bustling lit tie city reached him. 1t was an ideal spot.
 A splash in the water and little cry awakened Cartright from the reverie in which he had fallen. A girl was stand ing on the bridge. Her sailor hat had
 
 lazily toward him. The fishing rod was brought into reQuisition, and a moment later, lowing. he was presenting the dripping hat to its owner.
 She was the girl of his story person flied. He had imagined his heroine with wavy hair curled softly about her temples, just as this young lady's did. She was very young, and In her wide blue eyes were the feariessness of a child and the soul of a woman. Her lips were scarlet, and in the creamy cheeks the color came and went. In slight details perhaps she was differ ent- Yet so quickly did his brain child merge with the charming personality before him that on the instant they be came one. To Cartright thereafter she was the girl of the story"
 A single glance and she knew him for a gentleman. Soon they were seated side by side talking like old friends. He discovered that her name was Ruth Broadhurst and that she was wis iting at Banker Lawton's. Miss Broad hurst knew of John Cartright-had read some of his stories. The young mans character and achievements had been highly spoken of by the Lawtons, and although the irregularity of their meeting at first troubled. her the lack of a formal introduction soon ceased to make itself felt.
 That will ever be golden afternoon In Cartright's memory. At times he read aloud from the book of poems with which Miss Broadhurst had plan ned to while away an hour alone by the river. More often they chatted of many things-plays, books, mutual acQuaint- ances, themselves. And then long si- fences would fall-silence more elo- Quent than wOrds-in which each seem- ed to read the others unspoken thought. It was wonderful to the girl, this per feet sympathy and companionship with a man whom she had not seen until a few hours before. Two little clouds occasionally darkened Cartright's sun shine. He was plighted to another, and on Miss Broadhurst's slender, pink tipped third finger a splendid diamond flashed. He banished these thoughts whenever they came. This one after noon shall be ours" he said to himself.
 Quite naturally he fell to talking of his story and the plot that would not come. 1.-The man is an athlete, splen- did fellow in every way. Him have modelled after Philip Lotrfdge. friend of mine at college. He has won hin way up from the ranks, has my hero, and he is worthy of any woman living. even the one my imagination has creat- ed for him. He has been abroad, and I've fitted him up with some of the ex- periences l had myself while reporting on New York paper. But he is doom ed to lose her. The Turks say, you know, He that has many horses hath no wives I've endowed him with money and graces Of body and mind, but l cannot give him the girl he loves.
 And she, Miss Broadhurst. if can picture her as see her, should make