The morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1899-1930, 1906-09-05
Der
Masterpiece
BY MATTE X NAWN


WY
"Oh. Marge!' he called. II guess
this II your manuscript Hack from
Bnrbcra." he added malicioualy.
Margc went to the door OF her room
md called down lrrltably;
"Wcll. you needn't publish itr'
NO Il would be- better II they did"
flung back her brother,
IT'S funny" he unused. but the
things you don't want published are al
ways getting into print. and the things
you wan, to see In print end w Ia the
masterpiece trunk" This In reference
to an old box In which his sister was
wont TO deposit her efruslons after they
had gone tho rounds
\ Marge came downstairs. digging her
heels vIciously into the carpet ut each
atep.
Where In i,T' she asked
With an obvious desire TO DO as an
noying ns possible her brother replied.
where's whatf"
Marge treated him 20 mn eloquent
silence, Suddenly she spicd ,he en-
welopc and pdunccd upon IT, Then she
dung into the sitting room aud Topped
angrIly down on tho rug before the
IRE.
For halt an hour she nat there. read
Ing and tossing aside tho pages. The
loud itckiug OF the clock on the mantcl
piece sounded with increasing mo
notony through the long. conscientious
pcruNal, Finally she sighed,
1T WASH any good. she eounded 10
herself 1t wns too long aud too
prusy, and the idea VAS old Still"
she added in Relr Qualification. I've
seen Just ns bad stun ms that pub,
iiahri"
Her mother entered the room Marge
looked up at her with gricved eyes.
1T came back." she said In eSplana'
ton Of The pile of papcr II, her side.
'and they'll keep coming back Ms long
as | stay here, I'm tired OF the city,
II could get away into the country
where | could be absolutely alone day
In and dny out | could collect my
thoughts"
Her brother chucklrd lrrcvercntly.
Il could collect my thoughts she r.,
pcated MY brain Is Just sccthIng
with ideas, but the moment begin TO
write somebody Interrupts, aud when |
get back 10 my wort, the inspiration Is
gone. And she added somewhat bit
terly. here I'm elbow 10 elbow with
the everlasting economies we're forced
TO practice les always material
things that receive the first consIdcrn.
tIon--tt'A the coal or the gas or some.
thing all the time. If | could get out
months, for n month even, where no.
body knew me. where there was moth.
ing 10 remind me or the interest and
the water taxes, where could feel for
rcatIon and not grind, could write
story that would be worth while. I
know | could"
Mrs Dickson stood silent during her
daughters TRADE. The look OF sympn.
thetlc understanding In her eyes gave
place 10 harmonious twinkle. "Marge
IL very young" she reflected, land she
certainly was never meant to be Il
writer"
Margc had been n stcnogrnphcr to n
successful author. but had lately re-
signed her position. clcctIng to sup
port herself aud keep the family In
luxury by writing Mr., Bergen wrote
little stories without beginning or end.
for which he received fabulous checks,
Ii was easy. She could do II too. She
had written" but her stories had all
como back, and now she demanded to
go away.
Mrs. Dickson sighed "You were
such a good stenographcr." she said,
but stopped abruptly Mt sight OF her
daughters face. She took refuge un.
der cover OF the previous question"
II don't see how we can manage II,
dear" she said gently. There nre 80
many bills TO be met and soon the In.
gurance money falls due. We might let
that stand for month or So" she said.
avoiding her sons eyes.
1--WE can't do Tint" he said with AS
perIty. "Mnrgc can write here ms well
as IN the country. She rattles on about
the artistic temperament and its re
quIremcnts' and the proper environ
ment' and all such nonsense. I've
heard her ut II time and again. Now,
| don't know anything about the 'nr-
tlstlc temperament and don't want
TO. but up to date I've furnished the
requirements and the environment,
and that IL where the artistic tempera-
ment' has got to sit up and take notice.
As far as | can see, the artistic tenn.
permanent Is Il constitutional inability
to turn brains into money II Marge
had had any sense she would have
stuck to her typewriting and stenog-
raphy. She was good stenographer."
The girls eyes filled with tears.
"And," her brother went on. ut isn't
too late yet. You can write your mas.
terpleces' on the Side" he added hu.
! morously "rall Won what, Marge" he