The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1909-05-20

straight? So he corrected the gram
mar and punctuation and gave some
attention to the photography, but with
a grim smile refrained from changing
the story itself. Then he printed It,,
calling attention editorially to the new
star in the literary armament.
That settled 1t ALL Edna felt that
she was genius-that there was no
field for her In that desolate place.
Once or twice Ezra tried bfunderingly
to show her the beauty Of her sur
roundings, where nature has been
more lavish Of gracious gifts than in
any other land, but in all that wonder
she saw nothing worthy the attention
of the great writer she was.
All she lacked was the atmosphere
of great city. New York was the
center. There she wished to 60, and
alone. She did not wish to harness her
genius to such a plain, ignorant COM
panion as Ezra. No; she must be alone,
and when she had achieved success
and realized her ambition she would
return-for a visit.
/ Dreams Of honors to be showered
filled her head. In this lonely place
she was lost, entombed with her gen.
ius. She did not say talent, but genius.
Ezra had heard all her complaints
until he knew them by heart. Dimly
he felt that she was throwing away
the substance for the shadow, but he
had no words to voice his thoughts.
With all the obstinacy Of weak and
foolish woman Edna chung to her idea,
repeating it always in the same words
and in the same monotonous tone,
with her weak chin uplifted, until now
unavailingly, when Ezra had said:
every WELL"
Then she went to her room and be-
gan to pack.
Ezra went up to his comforting ma
drona tree and threw himself down
with his gaze fastened upon the Gold
en- Gate and the little feet Of ships
that were sailing in. HIS friends, the
| stars, came out while the silver moon
| hung low above the horizon and sank
slowly out of sight. He half sobbed:
poor little thing! I don't blame her.
She is too bright and clever and gifted
for me anyway. I never had no chance
to learn. If she will be happier-why,
I ought to be too. Poor little mother
less thingr'
Then two big tears suddenly sprang
from his eyes, and heart wrung sob
was In his throat as he pictured to
himself what the ranch would be With
| cut Edna
| When he went in she had finished
packing and was sitting before the
glass putting her front hair In crimps.
1t was such soft, pretty hair, Ezra
thought He bent clumsily and took
a wisp OF it into his broad palm and
lifted it softly to his lips. She consid-
cred this almost an impertinence and
drew her head away, while Ezra said
slowly:
EDNA, want to say this-I'u stay
here on the ranch, and-and If you
ever want me you have only to send
me word"
For answer she tossed her head. He
continued:
To-day I drawed all the money 1
had banked-a thousand dollars. Here
It Is. If you need more I'll send 1t
when the crops are Sold"
81 shall not need any more. And I
| will return this out Of the profits on
my Little VIII o. the Wisp.' I only
borrow it,
4
maybe there won't be no profits, %
hazarded Ezra.
ooh, | wish you could learn to
speak English properly" she replied,
angered by his doubt. She had no
doubts.
"And," she continued, 81 may go to
Europe. have read that The Bread
winner made hundred thousand dol
lars for the author And II such q
silly book could do SO well mine ought
to do much better Why, all the ,peo-
pie In that book are just ordinary
folks and don't do anything grand or
heroic, and-well, / know mine Is much
better"
Ezra sighed, but said no more. Edna
took the money.
Neither slept much that night.
A week later Edna stood in New
York. She began her search for a
publisher. She wrote letters to the
most prominent publishers, limiting Of
the great work she was ready to read
them, for she determined not to let
her precious manuscript out Of her
hands. She dressed well, arranged her
rooms-rooms then-and waited for the
publishers to come. She hoped they
would not fight each other. No one
even replied to her letters. But why
tell in detail the story OF her long wait
ing, her cruel disappointments, the
cold refusals-later and worse, the re-
turn Of her books without comment
or regret? She had learned that she
must trust to the publishers, after all.
She learned many hard lesson dur
ing the next few years, but with the
superlative obstinacy Of her nature she
persisted in her belief Of her own
genius. She wrote hopeful letters to
her husband and never told of her de-
feat
Her money was all gone. She moved
to one little attic room and peddled
cosmetics for awhile, then addressed
circulars, living, or, rather, existing,
most miserably. Her garments were