The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1904-12-23
MY NEPHEW.

Does anybody want a nephew? Will
anybody take a nephew as a gift?
VIII anybody borrow him for few
weeks until it's time for him to go to
school again? I think I should be
willing to pay liberal compensation,
for if Jack remains in my house any
longer the world will lose a master
piece. I'm not a vain man, nor am /,
] hope. unduly Conceited of my work,
but THE Ringlets of Priscilla has
sold four editions, and Ihe world
Well Lost for a Man" is doing pretty
we'll
The book I'm working at now is a
great deal better than either of the
foregoing. / honestly believe, as every
writer worth his salt must honestly
believe of any work while he is doing
il, that it's the best thing l have ever
done, and must say that l was some
what selhshly glad when my wife went
off to stay with Aunt Amelia, VINO de-
tests me. and left me alone with my
new book for six whole weeks.
The only servant left in the house
was Jane, and she had received strict
instructions not to disturb me in my
workroom by inquiring what I would
like for dinner She never does; L
will say that for Jane. In fact, she
usually forgets that I may want din
ner, and then I go and have it at the
club. watch is a great deal more con-
venient for me and for her Jack-for
we must not forget my nephew, Jack
has several sisters, and most of his
sisters have contracted measles just
at the beginning. of the holidays. That
is why Jack has now come TO stay
with me. for / don't think the reason
which my sister gave me, that she
means Jack to become a writer in
due course and knows how fond L am
of boys, sh Ould be taken into cOnsid-
Grafton. Well, Jack is here, and 1
have done no decent work since his
arrival
II. g Mt +ba I~f,,5 oF how x-c,, MIGHT
expect. know exactly what his name
leads you to fancy. because I've studied
fiction and have learned that Jack, the
nephew of an author, is generally eX-
pected to slide down the banisters, be
very ill over his uncle'S pipe, tie knots
in the cats tail, place BOBBY traps over
the doors. and take his uncle out and
make him look ridiculous in front of
prepossessing ladies.
But my Jack isn't that kind of Jack
al all The Jack 1 have described
how fishlike ali this Jack talk sounds
would of necessity be curly-haired ana
blue-eyed. captain of his house eleven
and a duffer at his lessons, but such a
gOod-hearted, manly lad. The real Jack,
the Jack of whom I am anxious to dis
pose until his school quarter begins, is
a pasty-faced, short-sighted youth, with
those big glasses oculists describe as
being restful and most other folk as
goggles He wears a dirty Elton collar
always and is the untidiest. inkiest,
seen. But he is quiet. He has a low
voice and deliberate manner, and Mary
that's his mother-says he is a think
err I should say he was!
On the first morning of his stay I
suggested a shilling to spend and the
Geological Gardens till lunch time. 1t
seemed to me that n shilling to spend
and amOrning's unSupervised sOjourn
with full liberty to tease the monkeys
and the parrots ought to please any
boy, and I wanted to get to work upon
the masterpiece.
The idea didn't please Jack, somehow.
He looked up at me wistfully-he has
the kind of eyes that look as if they
had come out of Eric or Little by
Little'-and said that he'd like to go
to the workroom with me and see me
al work.
I then noticed for the first time since
I had known the boy that his hair fell
over his white forehead with the wave
that the school matrOn always smOoths
OF the lads aching brow, and without
thinking 1 did it.
Then Jack looked up at me appealing