Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1908-04-23
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/. STORY
By ELLEN FRIZELL WYCOFF
(Copyright.)

I
The postmans whistle sounded.
tclear and sharp down the street Miss.
SBrent's heart gave quick throb, and.
she saw her cheeks flush as she tied
lher hat on before the little looking,
glass.
Now the whistle was nearer She
went to the door and waited. Suppose
she had won the prize! Again her,
heart throbbed and her cheeks
/ flushed.
! She held out her hand as the man;
stopped before her. A low groan es-,
| capped her lips as he handed out a.
| thick package. She went inside and,
| laid it under some books on the hall
table
Again she had failed. She waited
long enough to brush the hot tears
from her eyes, and then hurried out
of the house and down to the store
where her long, tiresome days were
dragged out
The lamp was burning in the hall
| when she came back Snatcling the
thick package from it's hiding place
she went up to her room.
"A letter, Dolly?"
Miss Brent kissed the pale face that
! turned SO gladly toward her.
Nothing of Importance, Bess. How
have you been to-day?"
Pretty we'll The sun has been SD
bright"
Miss Brent looked around the
| cherries little room. Each year had
| found her home poorer and poorer I'M
til now there was scarcely a comfort
left. She laid her hat on the bed be-
side the letter; nothing of import
| ance" she had called it. but how her
| face had beamed over those neatly
written pages! How she had hoped
and prayed that good might come to
| poor, patient Bess from that labor of
| love! and now here it was before her,
returned as utterly worthless.
| Tears came, again, to Dolly's brown
| eyes, but Bess must not see them. She
went about the room preparing the
evening meal.
| only one cup Of tea, Dolly" Bess
exclaimed when her chair had been
rolled up to the table.
q must be taking care of my
nerves, Bess. My hand has trembled
twice today" Dolly said, bending her
face low as she took up the toast.
Bess stirred her tea in silence.
And no butter On your toast?" she
l cIy hot of
her dry bread.
''Bess, my dear look at that" She
leaned over and pointed to pimple
on her pretty, dimpled chin.
well, what of that?'
Just this: I'm not going to ruin my
complexion for the sake of having but
ter on my toast At 80 woman
needs to take care of her good looks. >
Il never imagined you cared for
such things, Dolly. | am surprised"
Bess said with wide open eyes.
you pin one down so, Bess. Tn
very much ashamed to show my weak
ness to you, but l abhor pimples,' -
Dolly said with shamefaced air.
ooh, don't blame you, only it must
be so hard to not eat things you like. y
Dollys lips quivered, but she smiled
bravely. Pride knows no pain" she
quoted merrily, and then chatted
brightly about the people she had seen
in the store, entertaining Bess with
many scraps of conversation she had
overheard.
After awhile the child was asleep.
Dolly covered the little aching limbs
she had been rubbing, and turned
away from the bed.
She sat down by the lamp, holding
the thick, unwelcome letter in her
hand. Mechanically she opened it,
. and instead of the printed slip she
, had expected, letter fell out of the
envelope She laid the manuscript on
the table, and unfolded the letter
Am | dreaming, or are the words
really here?" she said aloud, a glad
, light in her eyes and her hands all a.
tremble. She read it again. There
was no mistake. The editor had been
so pleased with the plot of her story
that he returned it, begging her to
lengthen it for him, and Offering a
price for it that amazed her. In the
meantime he would buy her short
J stories.
Dolly wanted to scream with de
= light. And then, settling down in hel
Joy, she began to wonder what Short
story she could send.
With the editors unexpected letter
before her, her thoughts, somehow
, went back to her own little romance
Why not write that? Nobody woul(
} know it as hers, for who would sus
pect quiet, poverty-stricken little Miss
Brent of having romance tucked
away in her uneventful past?
II And, after all, it was not much of {
} story She had made very poor sor
| of a heroine. And Tom, well, there
z ! never was anybody like Tom. He wa:
hero enough for any story, for hadn'
( he wanted to take her and her mothe
), and little puny baby Bess to his home
: where there was scarcely enough fo
5 his own widowed mother and the fam
7 lily of helpless girls?
She had said no. and the driftin:
D apart began, and now they were for
) ever lost to each other.
U She drew her little desk to her ant
: wove her one little dream into ;
sweet, homely story, and then unit
U late in the night she wrote, lengthen