The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1909-08-17
TIE EVENING STORY
His Daughters Story.
By Donald Allen.

liz DOunQer MagaZlne was OIIor-
ing a $500 prize for the best love
story, and when Col. Sears. retired,
happened to see the announcement
at the village reading room he started
right home to tell his daughter Phyl-
lis. On the way he decided that her
story should be a pathetic one. He
so decided because he felt pathetic
most of the time himself over being
retired, over his half pay, and over
the fact that the army was going to
the dogs without him.
Phyllis Sears was good looking and
she was smart. She had written and
torn up two pieces of poetry; she had
written and read numerous school
compositions; she had written one
essay on the subject of intemperance.
Miss Phyllis fully realized that she
was literary, but she would not have
pursued the line except for the en-
thusiasm and encouragement of her
father. She continued to be good
looking and smart and literary to
please him. The mother dotted on the
girl, but stood neutral in details.
The story was begun next day, and
as fast as a page was written it was
submitted to the father He weighed
every sentence. Once the tears were
started from the eyes of the reader
he insisted that there should be no
respite.
When the story had reached five
pages the colonel wrote a letter to the
editor of the "Bounder." He gave his
war record in full, and stated that his
only daughter was writing a story to
be submitted in the contest. Thus far,
his word for it, it had proven trem-
endouS literary effort-fully equal to
Ouida's best, and he could guarantee
that the last half would be greater
yet. He had cried over it, and the
editor, the editors wife and the press
men, compositors and all others con-
nected with the office would doubt
less do the same.
By and by two or three things be-
gan to dawn on Phyllis She found
it difficult to- keep up the tears. The
story had gone all right to a certain
point and then stuck. She was puz-
zled as to the end of 1t. She began
to doubt and distrust her talent, and
finally ventured to say so to her faith
er.
mot take the prize" the colonel
exclaimed. "Why, girl, what has
come over you? First, you are the
daughter of a. colonel who served his
country for thirty years; next. you are
good looking and smart; thirdly,
your story is the only one to touch
I'll go down to the city and call him
ruffani You'll win that prize in
canter.'
"But if I should fail after alp" she
asked.
"But you can't"
"And yet 1 may You see you have
told most everybody, and if I don't
take the prize shall feel terribly hu-
inflated. I shall want to go away
for a year"
Look here, daughter" said the col
onel after a moments thought, "I'n
make you promise. If you don't
take that prize 1 promise to find
husband for you within year. What
do you say to that? You are sure of
the prize, however and will have to
live and die an old maid
And that evening as the colonel
smoked his cigar on the veranda with
a friend he whispered in confidence:
mot a word to a living soul-not
a word! There'n be ten thousand
stories sent in, but Phyllis's will take
the cake. Bound to, sir-bound to.
daughter of an old soldier. The first
page made me hitch around on my
chair and the second brought tears to
my eyes. 1t will be story to set
thousands weeping"
The story was finished at last, read
and reread, and then sent off. With it
went another confidential letter from
the colonel He pointed out its many
strong points to save the editor time,
and he assured him that at least forty
friends of his had pronounced it
gem and wanted ten copies of the
issue in which it was printed. He also
referred again to his war record.
There was a month of waiting. Dur
ing this time the colonel never falt-
cred. When Phyllis became despond-
emit and discouraged he patted her on
the head and replied:
"Why, the editor must have time to
recover from his emotions after read
ing your story. Bound to win-bound
to- Thirty years in the service of my
country, and this is the first story
my daughter has written. GU may
receive a five hundred dollar check
at any moment. If it had been
common story-something to laugh at
"a balderdash love story-but it was
pathos. you see. Egad. but think OF of
your old father weeping over story!
One day the pathetic manuscript
was returned, and enclosed with it
was n notice that such and such a
story had won the prize. The colonel
came home with the letter in his
hand.
but I was afraid it might fail,
said Phyllis as she took it and went
away to weep over it and wonder
what everybody would say.
The colonel stalked into the library
and sat down and wrote the editor
letter and told him that he was a
man without sentiment-a numskull
"a border ruffian and many other
things and wound up with a lament
that the days of the duello had passed
away. That relieved him somewhat.
Ten days had passed and the little
family was sitting on the veranda one
afternoon when a gentlemanly looking |
man of thirty descended from an auto
and introduced himself. His card
showed that he was the editor of the
"Bounder." Phyllis lushed and her
father arose to begin an Grafton. 1t |
was to be a scorcher, but before he
had got out a word the caller an |
nounced that he had come down to |
make an explanation. He was per-
fectly at ease, and his manner was
frank.
In the first place, the pathetic story
had exceeded the limit set by over |
thousand words; the circular had
specified American stories, and this