Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-11-06

est American manhood. He scowled.
Excuse a plain question, young
man." he said, "but what are you
hiding from?"
Mrs. Quimby, in the neighborhood
of the stove, paused TO hear the re-
ply Billy Magee laughed.
I'm not hiding" he said. Didn't
! Bentley explain? . Well, I'll try to,
though Pm not sure you'll under
fstand Sit down. Mr.. Quimby. You
are not, I take 1t, the sort of man to
follow closely the light and frivolous
literature of the day."
What's that?" inquired Mr.. Quinn
by
''You don't read" continued Mr..
Magee, the sort of novels that are
sold by the pound III the department
stores Now, If you had n daughter
"a fluffy daughter inseparable from
hammock in the suTnmer-sae could
help me explain. You see--I write
those novels. Wild thrilling tales for
the tired business mans tired wife
shots in the night, chases after for
tunes, Cupid busy with his arrows all
over the place! It's good fun, and |
like to do 1t. There's money In it.
rs there?" asked Mr.. Quimby with
a show of interest.
considerable" replied Mr.. Magee;
but now and then | get a longing to
do something that wfll make the
critics sit up--thc real thing, you
know. The other day lspiclxed up a
newspaper and found my latest brain
child advertised as the best fall novel
Magee ever wrote 1t got on my
nerves. felt like n literary dress
maker, and / could see my public lay
ing down my fall novel and signing
for my early spring styles in fiction.
/ remembered that once upon q time
critic advised me to go away for ten
years to some quiet spot. and think.
/ decided to do it. Paldpate Inn is
the quiet spot
you don't mean" gasped Mr..
Quimby, that you'res going to stay
there ten years."
"Bless you, no." said Mr.. Magee.
| Critics eXaggerate. Two months viii
| do. They say l am a cheap melodra-
matte ranter They say / don't go
deep. They say my thinking process
! is a scream. I'm afraid they're right.
/ Now, I'm going to go up to Baldpate
Inn and think, I'm going to get away
| from melodrama I'm going to do a
novel so fine and literary that Henry
| Cabot Lodge will come to me with
tears In his eyes and ask me to join
| MS DuUCH vi AAAAAph setA1'
I'm going to do all this UP there at
the inu-sitting on the mountain and
loking down on this little old world
as Jove looked down from Olympus
'I don't know who you mean" OBJ
jected Mr.. Quimby.
"He was a god--the god of the
| fruit-stand men," explained Magee
"Pjcture me, IL you can, depressed
by the overwhelming success OF my
latest brain-child. Picture me meet
ing Hal Bentley in a Forty-fourtt
| street club and asking him for the
! location of the lonesomest spot or
4 earth Hal thought minute I've
pot it, he said, the lonesomest spot
| that's happened to date is a summer
| resort in mid winter. 1t makes Cru
/ soe,s Island look like Coney on 9
warm Sunday afternoon in compari.
| son. The talk flowed on along will
other things. Hal told me his father
owned Baldpate Inn, and that you
were an old friend OF his who woulc
/ be happy over the entire winter over
] the chance to serve him. He hap
pened to have key to the place
i the key to the big front door. ] guess
from the weight of it--and he gave
! IL to me. He also wrote you to lool
/ after me- So here | am"
Mr.. Quimby ran his fingers through
/ his white hair.
Here / am" repeated Billy Ma
gee. Fleeing from the great glitter
| known as Broadway to do littl'
i rational thinking in the solitudes. tt
4 getting late, and ] suggest that W.
4 start for Baldpate Inn at once"
'This amt exactly-regular," Mr.
4 Ouimby protested. mo, ii amt wha
you might call frequent occurrence
I'm glad to do anything / can fol
Young Mr.. Bentley, but can't hell
!, wondering what his father will say
And there's a lot of things vol
haven't took into consideration.
"There certainly is, young man,
remarked Mrs. Quimby, busting for
ward Flow are you going to keel
warm in that big barn of place? 2
'.The suites on the second floor,
said Mr. Magee, are, near
equipped with fireplaces. Mr.. Quinn
by will keep me supplied with fue
, from the forest primeval, for whicl
ri