Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-03-10

of the stove paused to hear the reply
Billy Magee laughed.
I'm not hiding" he said. Didn't
Bentley explain? Well. I'll try to,
though I'm not sure you'll understand. .
Sit down, Mr.. Quimby. You are not,
| take it, the sort of man to follow
closely the light and frivolous liter.
ature Of the day.
WHAT that?" inquired Mr..
Quimby.
"You don't read" continued Mr.. Ma
gee 1.-THE sort of novels that are sold
by the pound in the department stores.
Now. If you had a daughter--a fluffy
daughter inseparable from hammock
In the summer-<he could help me ex-
plain. You see-I write those novels.
Wild thrilling tales for the tired bust
ness mans tired wife-shots in the
night, chases after fortunes, Cupid
busy with his arrows all over the
place, It's good FUN, and like to do
1t. There's money in it,
"Is there?" asked Mr.. Quimby with
a show of interest.
considerable" replied Mr.. Magee
But now and then I get longing to
do something that will make the
critics sit up-the real thing, you
know The other day picked up
newspaper and found my latest brAiH
child advertised as 1.-The best fall move
Magee ever wrote 1t got on my
nerves. felt like a literary dress
maker. and I could see my public lay
ing down my fall novel and signing
for my early spring styles in action,
remembered that once upon time
a critic advised me to go away for ten
years to some quiet spot, and think. J
decided to do it. Baldpate Inn Is the
quiet spot"
"You don't mean" gasped Mr.
Quimby. that you're going to stay
there ten years."
Bless you, no. said Mr.. Magee.
"Critics exaggerate, Two months VIII
do. They say am cheap melo.
dramatic ranter They say don't 20
deep. They say my thinking process
is a scream I'm afraid they're right
Now, I'm going to 60 up to Baldpate
Inn, and think. I'm going to get away
from melodrama. I'm going to do
novel so fine and literary that Henry
Cabot Lodge will come to me with
tears in his eyes and ask me to Join
his bunch of self-made Immortals.
I'm going to do all this up there at
the insisting on the mountain and
looking down on this little old world
as Jove looked down from Olympus.
81 don't know who you mean" OBJ,
jected Mr.. Quimby.
"He was god-the god OF the
fruit-stand men," explained Magee.
Picture me, if you can, depressed by
the Overwhelming success of my latest
brain-child. Picture me meeting Hal
Bentley in Forty-fourth Street club
and asking him for the location of the
lonesomest spot on earth. Hal thought
minute I've got it., he said, the
lonesomest spot that's happened to
date is a summer resort in mid-winter.
II makes Crusoe's island look like
Coney on warm Sunday afternoon in
comparison The talk flowed on
along with other things. Hal told me
| his father owned Baldpate Inn, and
that you were an old friend of his who
| would be happy for the entire winter
over the chance to serve him. He hap
pened to have key to the place--the
key to the big front door, guess, from
the weight Of it-and he gave it to
me. He also wrote you to look after
me- So here am"
| Mr.. Quimby ran his fingers through
his white hair.
Here am" repeated Billy Magee
fleeing from the great glitter known
as Broadway to do a little rationa
thinking in the solitudes. It's getting
late. and suggest that we start for
Baldpate Inn at once"
! "This amt exactly--regular,'' Mr..
Quimby protested. mo, 1t ant what
you might call frequent occurance.
I'm glad to do anything can for
young Mr.. Bentley, but can't help.
wondering what his father will say.
And there's lot of things YOU
haven't took into consideration
There certainly is, young man."
remarked Mrs. Quimby, bustling for
ward. How are you going to keep
warm in that big barn Of a placer
"The suites on the second floor"
said Mr.. Magee, ARE, hear, equipped
with fireplaces. Mr. Quimby will keep
me supplied with fuel from the forest
primeval, for which service he will re-
ceive twenty dollars week.
"And light?'" asked Mrs. Quimby.
For the present, candles. have
forty in that package. Later. perhaps
you can find me an oil lamp. Oh,
everything will be provided for
"Well," remarked Mr.. Quimby. look
ing in dazed fashion at his wife, II
reckon III have to talk it over with
ma"
ITO be Continued.)