The San Francisco call., 1909-06-13
The San Francisco Sunday Call

good times as they tell about. But
maybe you'll invite me some night.
when you have crowd of them there,
just to look on. I'd love to come"
And l promised her that l surely
would
On the way home we met the dra-
matte critic sauntering out of an up
town theater between acts, with a
masculine friend who shared his free
passes, and wearing a bored express
sion which scarcely changed as he
touched his hat. Could it be that he
half surmised the sordid import of my
recent errand? At least. / reflected,
with a shade of consolation. there was
nothing sordid in the appearance of
the commodore's athletic figure and
stylish ulster.
In my absence the law student had
called and left note under my door
saying that the landscape artist was
i'll and would probably appreciate
anything that the professors wife or /
could suggest IN the way of hot lemon
ade or mustard applications. somehow
l felt relieved that 1t was not the sem
sitive poet who had suffered disap-
poiutment for my reprehensibIc com
mercialisn. My room sadly needed
sweeping. my mending was undone and
] had forgotten To tend my plants for
days These tasks. together with
doing my weekly laundry. making
beef broth for my inG;sposed neighbor
and writing the obligatory home let
ters interfered for several evenings
with courting the muse or determining
the manner of my dread descent from
the ideal to the utilitarian in comply
ing with my recent mercenary agree
ment
But on the third night an appropri-
ate mode of attack occurred to me and
/ was able to reconcile opposing emo
tions to the extent >Of constructing
several epigrammatic verses for the
commodore before there was a famil-
lar rap and the picturesque Pole ap-
peared.
IAN. my friend. what are you writ
ing now?" he queried.
"A poem" I answered, brazenly.
you shall show it to me when it is
done. But the feminine mind is rarely
creative. 1t is as the mirror that it
shines-relective, sympathetic. re-
sponsive to the stronger intellect Of
man. Let us not talk of what you
have been doing. but of what I have
yet to do to complete the fragment
airy epic l read to you last week. Ger
tain idiomatic phrases and questions
Of"
We were interrupted by the young
newspaper illustrator. who had
brought with him n cub reporter to
interview the landscape artist and did
not know which room was his. As
the intended object Of their adulation
could not we'll receive them ! invited
them into my own den. The poet was
distinctly annoyed, but compromised
the matter by reading his epic to all of
us and gave the verdant reporter his
address for future reference. ChOco-
late and waters served to heal the
breach and at midnight they all de-
parted.
A second effort when I was alone
the evening after this. sufficed TO
complete the commodore's lad" and to
include suggestions for appropriate IL
lustrations could he find a menial Mt
for the task 1t was with mixed
feelings that on the following Sunday.
l descended to the cozy apartment OF
my hospitable neighbors and submit
ted it to his clear and unprejudiced
eye.
Capital he exclaimed emphati-
cally. after he had read it twice. How
much do owe your"
II don't know" / replied. half
in lf-deprecation. as I imagined the
verdict of the salon on my apostasy.
p never did anything like this be-
fore"
We'll. it's worth that much any
way" and two shining eagles rang on
the center table.
The grave young professor looked
over his eyeglasses in amusement at
my confusion and his wife gave my
hand a little squeeze TO forbid my de-
clining any part of the sum.
IT'S all right" they explained later.
"He is the junior partner and has more
authority than YOU supposed. Matter
of that sort is worth a good price to
extensive wholesalers"
I fell asleep with the gold pieces
under my pillow and dreamed of the
salon presided over by Ine cOmmo-
dore, who was pouring a libation to
the gods from the copper samovar I
had purchased of its impecunious and
grateful owner, while the remainder
of my newly acquired wealth had been
exchanged for an evening gown and a
set of encyclopedias.
Broken Images
The weeks passed on, but no checks
from newspapers or magazines were
forthcoming, manuscripts were re-
turned with punctilious regularity.
applications for better positions were
turned down. the commodore's timely
tribute to my Golfers melted away in
the purchase OF mere necessaries and
the grinding monotonv OF mailing
catalogues palled as it never had be-
fore.
The dramatic critic had gone to
New York without giving me the prom
ised note OF Introduction or even call
ing to say goodby. The distinguished
looking artist who had illustrated my
Sunday supplement story and after