The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1905-06-16

at San Jose de Guatemala. 'Your ca,
BILE was repeated to me at Chicago"
was the message. otherwise 1 should
have been with you now. I know that
II your illness continued you would
need nurse, and l felt that / could
not delegate to strangers the privilege
Of attending you" 1t was a womanly
letter-the letter Of a woman mature in
heart and brain-and Claxton pondered
q long while before putting il aside.
Next came q telegram, sent to his
apartments before the telephone had
been installed: please come tonight.
Am blue. Have wired Minnie stay
home" A very sweet, dependent lit
tie message, but of course not to be
thought of as the single memento of
so close friendship as theirs had
been. 1t was even preferable to retain
the short note which he had always
ascribed to her literary genius rather
than to her feelings Each thought of
you, dropping into the waters Of my
heart, produces ever widening circles
of tender recollection
Then there was an envelope from
her, on the back of which he had COM
posed a fragment of verse. 1t began:
Thou art so dear to me- my love-
So dear and. oh, so necessary!
ClaXton remembered that she had
priced the poem above anything else
he had given her. ut is so fine TO be
thought necessary she had said.
In this manner he progressed through
five Of the nine packages. Each letter
seemed more desirable than the rest,
and every moment made a selection
less easy. This scrawl was a reassur-
ance which she had penciled on the
leaf of her programme at the theater;
that sheet Of blue paper bore the first
words OF affection he had ever received
from her.
At the bottom Of the fifth bundle was
a long envelope with the name OF a
publishing company on its upper left
hand corner The postmark was over
two years old. Rejected manuscript"
ClaXton concluded, tossing it to one
side contemptuously. That had come
back in the days when rejected manu-
scripts had not been half so rare as
good dinners or money with which to
pay rent Something approaching Gu
riOsity made him pick up the envelope
again and draw the contents from it's
mouth. The story that lay before him
was headed, prom Frank Claxton, 211
West Twenty-flrst Street" but the
type unmistakably belonged to the ma
chine which still remained a fixture
at Miss Carter's. The tale was one
that she had sent over his signature to
an editor Of whose opinion she had felt
certain, and it had in consequence been
returned to him when that gentleman
had classed it MS unavailable" 81
thought you'd get a check" Virginia
had confessed, 'and / knew you'd
spend it without considering why's and
wherefores. It's just like Phelps! He
was enthusiastic over the plot when
told it to him last week"
Virginia." he had demonstrated, 'it
was like offering me charity"
Nonsense! / shouldn't have thought
of handing you money. l simply wrote
a story for you that you might have
written yourself if you had taken
time"
"Taken time. Good Lord, how much
time he had taken that year in just
such discouraging, unremunerative la
Dor! How unhappy he had been and
how awfully, awfully hard up! He
hadn't begun spending every evening
with her then, and he hadn't begun
selling whatever he wrote either. "No-
body ever did-at first" she had as
sured him.
For twenty minutes Ciaxton sat ST.
lently on his chair island in the middle
of a sea Of letters. His fingers chung
to the rejected manuscript, but his eyes
looked beyond 1t into the past All the
half forgotten history Of his love for
Virginia Carter had been recalled to
him with wonderful vividness-her I'M
varying goodness, the sweetness of
their intercourse, the erstwhile strength
of his affection FOR her. A ships clock
in the adjoining room struck 2, the
nautical fashion Of saying that the hour
was g. and with quick resolution he be-
gan climbing into his evening clothes.
'Tve come to take you to dinner" he
said to Miss Carter when she respond
ed to his pressure on the button at her
door,
$50 you were lonely, tooY' she asked
him.
Lonely? BY George, and those let
ters"-
She was too clever a girl not to seem
and he could not look
through the sides of her trunk into the
tray where reposed several packages
Of his letters to her, unsearched. I'M
touched, since first they had been read
and laid away.
.