The Somerset reporter., 1906-08-16
Der
Masterplece
BY MATTE K. NAWN
Copyright. 1905, by Ruby Douglas

corner was printed BARRIERS Pub
fishing Company He smiled In broth
erly derision.
"Oh, Marge" he called. II guess
this is your manuscript Back from
Barber's," he added maliciously
Marge went to the door of her room
and called down irritably:
well, you needn't publish it,
NO; it would be better if they did"
flung back her brother.
ITS funny" he unused, but the
things you don't want published are al
ways getting into print. and the things
you want to see in print end up in the
masterpiece trunk" This in reference
TO an old box in which his sister was
wont to deposit her effusions after they
had gone the rounds.
Marge came downstairs digging her
heels yiciously into the carpet at each
step.
where is it, she asked
With an obvious desire to he as an
noying as possible her brother replied,
"Wheres what?"
Marge treated him to an eloquent
silence. Suddenly she spied the en-
yelOpe and pounced upon it. Then she
flung into the sitting room aud Topped
angrily down on the rug before the
fire.
For half an hour she sat there, read
ing and tossing aside the pages The
loud ticking of the clock on the mantel-
piece sounded with increasing mo-
notony through the long, conscientious
perusal Finally she sighed.
1T wasn't any good" she confded to
herself. 1T was too long and too
prosy, and the idea was old Still "
she added in self justification, i've
seen just as bad stuff as that pub
lished."
Her mother entered the room. Marge
looked up Mt her with grieyed eyes
1T came buck" she said in expana-
ton of the pile of paper at her side.
and they'll keep coming buck as long
as | stay here. I'm tired of the city.
If | could get away into the country
where | could be absolutely alone day
in and day out l could collect my
thoughts"
Her brother chuckled irreverently.
II could collect my thoughts she re-
peated. My brain is just seething
with Ideas, but the moment | begin to
write somebody interrupts, and when l
get back to my work the inspiration is
gone. And" she added somewhat bit
terly, here I'm elbow to elbow with
the everlasting economies we're forced
to practice. It's always material
things that receive the first considera-
tion--it's the coal or the gas or some
thing-all the time. If 1 could get out
into the country for a couple of
months. for a month even, where no
body knew me. where there was moth
Ing to remind me of the interest and
the water taxes. where l could feel for
once in my life that writing was n rec
reation and not a grind, l could write
story that would be worth while.
know | could"
Mrs. Dickson stood silent during her
daughters TRADE The look of sympn-
thetic understanding In her eyes gave
place to "A harmonious twinkle. "Marge
Is very young" she reflected. "and she
certainly was never meant to be IA
writer"
AIarge had been stenographer to Il
successful author, but had lately re
signed her position. elCctlng to sup
port herself and keep the family in
luxury 10y writing. Mr. Bergen wrote
little stories without beginning or end.
for which he received fa bulous checks
It was easy. She could do it too She
had written" but her stories had al
come back, and now she demanded TO
so away.
Mrs. Dickson sighed you We're
such a good stenographer." she said,
but stopped abruptly at sight of her
daughters face She took refuge un-
der cover of the previous question"
II don't see how we can manage it,
dear" she said gently. There are so
many bills to be met ana soon the in
surance money falls due. We might let
that stand for n month or So" she said
avoiding her sons eyes
I'VE can't do that he said with as
perity. "Marge can write here as well
as in the country. She rattles on about
the artistic temperament and its re
quirements and the proper environ
ment' and all such nonsense. I've
heard her at Ii time and again. Now,
| don't know anything about the ar
tistic temperament and | don't want
To- but up to date I've furnished the
requirements and the environment. .
and that is where the artistic tempeTa-
ment has got to sit UP and take notice.
As far as | cum see, the artistic tenn
permanent is constitutional inability
to turn brains into money. If Margc
lad had any sense she would have
stuck to her typewriting and stenog-
raphy. She was a good stenographer. "
The girls eyes filed with tears.
and" her brother went on, lit isn't
TOO late yet You can write your mas
terpieces' on the side" he added hui
morously Tell you whit. Marge," he
continued more gcatly, why don't you
go to work fo9 couple of months and
save enough for this trip"
Mrs. Dickson frightened at the sug-
gestion.
But I've lost my speed" said Marge