The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1907-10-15


EMMY on into weeks. Occasionally Syl-
via inquired Of the elevator boy how
Mr.. Laurison was getting on. 1t seem
ed an eternity before his lugubrious
about the same, MISS" changed to
the cheerful "They say he's much bet
Ter, miss
No more counselings now with Dame
Grundy as to the propriety Of trips to
the roof. Sylvia went every day-twice
day. She knew that some time she
would find him there When at length
she did she almost ran to him for JOY,
but remembered suddenly that they
had met only once before. So she cali
ed to him from the distance.
How do you do, Mr. Laurison"
Paul started up in his steamer chair
and gazed at her In glad surprise.
why, how do you do again" he
called cheerily. Wont you come over
and shake handsY'
Sylvia came toward him quickly and
extended her little white hand
IT suppose this Is Miss S. R. have
the pleasure of greeting" said Paul,
with cordial informality.
"Yes-Sylvia Randall" she answered.
81 like the queens name," Paul COM
mented, ''and wish could ask her to
stay awhile, but have no throne to
offer her"
without further ceremony Sylvia sat
down on the roof and declared herself
comfortable.
II want to thank you, Miss Sylvia"
began Paul slowly, for your message
while 1 was Ill. 1t did me world Of
good"
Sylvia looked up at him to see If he
was making fun of her. but Paul lay
back against the cushions, his eyes APP
parently closed. From beneath those
closed lids, however he was revealing
in the glory of Sylvia's hair and in the
color that came and went in her
cheeks
81 wrote it." explained Sylvia hum
bly,, before knew you were i'll and
before l found out that you are real
author"
"And how did you discover that7' in
quired Paul.
'In a magazine" answered Sylvia
tersely ut was good story much
better than your rhymes,
"Well, you see, writing poetry isn't
exactly in my line" said Paul, laugh
ing. 81 never did it till l met you.
But I like it just the same. My two
favorite lines are these:
"P. L. was poet; p L. was a thief;
P. L. came to my house and stole a hand
kerchief.
Sylvia hung her head, whether from
modesty or amusement Paul couldn't
tell
"The paper they were written on
was suspiciously watermarked, he OBJ
served. you didn't really cry, did
your
Train vets things" answered Sylvia
laconically. Besides, what good would
it have done to cry? You had my
handkerchief.
After this suspicious beginning the
chimney postoffice was a wonderfully
busy institution, and the old roof woke
up all of sudden to its many roman
tic possibilities.
"It's truly garden, isn't it2" whis-
pered Sylvia one night, stealing about
In the moonlight with Paul beside her.
''The queens garden" answered
Paul, and Sylvia didn't dispute him.
Then after minute of silence he
added: "Hark! l hear some one try
ing to get over the garden wall"
ooh, dear! By the fire escape?'
gasped Sylvia.
Paul shook his head.
"ListenY he urged. you can hear
his wings"
"Oh," laughed Sylvia shyly, 81 know
nowp'
"Shall we help him over?" asked
Paul, drawing Sylvia gently to him.
HE doesn't seem to need much
help" murmured Sylvia so softly that
Paul could hardly hear the words.
Jean Richepin's Career.
The story Of how he came to adopt
literary career is sufficiently pictur-
esque For some time he had picked
up precarious livelihood by doing
"odd jobs" including such prosaic oc-
equations as that Of bootblack and
casual porter on the Quai Marseilles.
One day he was engaged by gentle
man to carry to the railway station a
heavy trunk Arrived at the station,
ton. They were old college chums.
what are you doing here7D asked his
friend. Carrying your trunk, be-
lieve," said Jean. why do you do
this?'' Because 1 must" where
do you liver Come and see" re-
piled Richepin.
The future dramatist took bis friend
to his dwelling-a miserable room In
an attic in the poorest quarter OF the
town. Upon the table lay scattered
heaps OF manuscripts jeans incur
sions in the realms of poetry when
the more prosaic duties Of the day
were over. Looking through them, his
friend was astounded at their quality.
why do you carry trunks and blacken
boots when you can do work like
this?' he asked Richepin had never
given the matter thought He had
never deemed these products of idle
hours worthy of publication. Pub
lished they were, however, IN very
few weeks and created an immense
sensation. From that moment Jean
Richepin never looked back.-West-
minister Gazette.