The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1905-10-04
Opportunity
Bald Head
BY MARGARET RICHARDS

With weary little sigh Margaret
Huston pushed aside the closely writ
ten pages. 1t was no use The story
would not go,
For six months now she had written
storles-Clevcr, harmless little things
which her friends easily could have
forgiven her had she not insisted upon
regarding them all as legitimate ina
terial." She moved In II world of fic-
ton; she revclled In situations; incipi-
ent plots ran riot In her brain
But today ms she pushed back her
chair and walked with graceful I'M
patient movement 10 the open window,
she found no solution 10 her problem.
The story was ut II standstill. Up TO
this point II had progressed smoothly
enough. After II series of vicissltudes
OF the kind peculiar To young authors
the hero Ind boarded an eastern bound
express ut Sun Francisco. The heroine,
II victim of diverse and equally sntis
flying misfortunes, had mwlttingly
taken this same express ut Denver.
What the result would be WINS obvious,
but 1t was right here that the hero
failed to rise to the occasion with his
customary alacrity.
ut all sounds SO out of plnce, some
how, on train" murmured the fair
author. wrinkllng her pretty forehead
perplexedly. He could not act In the
usual way" she continued reminiscent
~, AZ various pictures of moonlt
porches and palm sheltered corners
fitted across her memory. ut Is II
situation that would have TO work IL
self out" A sudden thought stained
the white skin scarlet. "Oh, no, l
never could do that," she whispered,
while the soft breeze famed her hot
checks. But II would only be in the
interest of nrt," lnsinuatcd the tempter.
Artists must sacrifice themselves to
their work" And John Sherwood's
doom was sealed
Short. sharp puffs of escaping steam,
u jolt, n faint vibration, and the New
York train steamed slowly out of Ards
ley on Hudson.
All unaware that he was but II pawn
In his fair lndy's game, John Sherwood
ttuUtu lOIMuTu III Ills btHl HilN lfEiAh-
ed her with wondering. delighted eyes.
This sudden grnciousness, this nneX
plainable nervousness, the flushed, hnlf
ayerted face, bore but one interpreta-
tion to his eager lovers heart. She was
inexprcssbly dear to him. this slender,
capricious maiden; how dear he had
never before quite dared to say, but
now
They had found seats on the river
side. The setting sun shot quiverlng
crimson SHAFT across the water and
crowned the opposite mountains with
soft golden light. She made mental
note of the yellow splendOr. OF course
there was no river In her story, but
western mountain ridges bathed In
sunset glory would be II fitting back
ground for her heros impassloned MP
peal
John leaned toward her. "Margarct."
no said lmpulslycly, did you ever hear
why Opportunity IL supposed to have
bald headI'
She turned her head with rcscntful
little gesture He was beginning bad
ly. No bald head, even that of Oppor-
tunlty, had n place In her picture OF
youth and shifting golden lights ana
passionate appeal; then, remembering
her role of heroine, she nodded with
forced little smile.
With faint, grinding protest tho
train stopped ut Dobbs Ferry. A girl
with two small children In tow entered
the car; behind her trailcd woman
In sombcr Widows weeds. Margaret
rejected the children as being too
sticky, but the sunset, the Widows
garb of woe In sharp contrast to the
heros impaxsioned declaration
because Opportunities head Is
bald" went on Johns dogged voice.
mo one can grab him from behind
after he has passed. you know but In
front his halr IL long
"Ohw shefcricd family. Would he
never hnveldone with that hendT All
her artistic sense arose IN mute rebel
lion. EVEN the dimple In her chin re-
treated IN sweet disdain.
Hastings" shouted the conductor.
The train slowed down gently stopped
-puffcd slowly on again John, too
deep In his struggle with Opportunity
to heed the signs of gathering storm on
his fair lady's face, rushed on to his
impending doom.
t. IL long" he repeated, 80 the
only way TO get hold of him Is to grab
him when you meet him.
Absence Of the sweet graclousness Of
an hour ago In the fair face beside him
warned him Of the fatal futility OF his
words, but no Numbered on red and
embarrassed, to his unhappy end. And
so-this- today-belng with you-is my
opportunity and ! want to grasp it
and you" he finished hoarscly.
"YoDkersl All aboard Next stop
One Hundred and Twenty fifth street"
With short, sharp puifs of protest, the
engine prepared for its quick run into
New York
She looked drearlly out of the win
dow The golden light had faded. like
her Grant fancy. and the Palisades
stretched blue gray In the gathering
dusk She was tired Off all John,
her stories everything His words had
stirred faint, dreamlikcjpossibillt In
her heart, but that she~iid not know.
Il suppose I've madela mess in say
ing It," he went on, embarrassment.
and passionate determination strug-
Cling together In his voice, but r
She turned to him In little gust OF
Indignation. yes. you have made a
mess OF IT," she whispered hotly
you might have done 1t differently
You have spoiled It all-my story
everything" She sat erect and ruth
less; a rising sob shook her voice, but
she proudly choked 1t back.
With desperate, wlstful hope that
he had not heard Alright, John looked
speechlessly at her flushed. indignant
face. She could not have meant 1t all
she would turn and explain away his
doubts In her pretty, imperious fashion
and then he slowly realized that her
silence answered him.