Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-03-11


knock, a man OF about sixty years ap-
peared. Evidently he had Just finish
ed supper. At the moment he was
engaged in lighting his pipe. he ad-
mitted Mr.. Magee into the intimacy
of the kitchen. and took a number of
calm judicious puffs on the pipe be-
fore speaking to his visitor.
MY names Magee," blithely ex-
planned that gentleman. dragging in
his bags. And you're Elijah Quimby,
of course. How are you? Glad to see
you"
The older man did not reply. but
regarded Mr.. Magee wonderingly
through white puffs OF smoke. His
face was kindly, gentle. Intellectual.
YES" he admitted at last Eyes,
I'm Quimby."
Mr.. Magee threw back his coat, and
sprayed with snow Mrs. Quimby's i'm
maculate floor.
I'm Magee," he calculated again,
civilian Hallowell Magee, the man
Hal Bentley wrote to you about You
got his letter, didn't your
Mr.. Quimby removed his pipe and
forgot to close the> aperture as he
stared in amazement.
Good Lord" he cried; you don't
mean-you've really come? Why, we
we thought it was all a joker
Hal Bentley has his humorous mo-
ments," agreed Mt. Magee, but It
isn't his habit TO fling his Jests into
Upper Asquewan Falls"
"md-and you're really going to-
Mr.. Quimby could get no further.
YES" said Mr.. Magee brightly, slip
ia hot
going to spend the next few months
at Baldpate inn"
Its closed" expostulated Mr.. Quinn
by. THE inn is closed, young fellow"
II know it's closed" smiled Magee.
That's the very reason I'm going to
honor it with my presence I'm sorry
to take sou out on a night like this,
but I'll have to ask you to lead me UP
to Baldpate. i believe those were Hal
Bentley's instructions-in the letter."
Mr.. Quimby lowered above Mr.. Ma
gee, a shirt sleeved statue of honest
American manhood. He scowled.
Excuse a plain question, young
man." he said, but what are you hid
ing from?"
I'm not hiding" said Magee. 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 close
" the frivolous literature of the day"
whats 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, il you had a daughter-a fluffy
daughter inseparable from hammock
in the summer-she 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
it There's money in it"
as thereY" asked Mr.. Quimby, with
a show OF interest.
considerable" replied Mr.. Magee.
But now and then 1 get a longing to
do something that will make the critics
sit up-the real thing, you know. The
other day i picked up newspaper and
found nv latest brain child advertised
as the best fall novel Magee ever
wrote 1t got on my nerves, l felt
like a literary dressmaker. and could
see my public laying down my fall
novel and signing for my early spring
styles in fiction. l remembered that
once upon a time a critic advised me
to go away for ten years to some quiet
spot and think. 1 decided to do IL
Ba1dpate inn is the quiet spot"
You don't mean." gasped Mr.. Quinn
by, that you're going to stay there
ten years."
"BIess You, nor said Mr.. Magee.
Critics exaggerate. Two months Will
do. They say ! am cheap meio-
dramatic 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 Baidpate
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. Im
going to do all this up there at the
inn. sitting on the mountain and look
ing down on this little old world as
love looked down from Olympus.
ST don't know who you mear," OBJ
tected Mr.. Quimby. -
He was a god-the god of the fruit
stand men," explained Magee. Pic
ture me, IL you can. depressed by the
Overwhelming success or my latest
brain child. Picture me meeting Hal
Bentley In a Forty-fourth street ciuo
and asking him for the location OF the
,onesomest spot on earth. Hal thought
a minute. I've got it he said. the
lonesomest spot that's happened TO
date is a summer resort in midwinter
IL makes Crusoe's island look Ike
Coney on a warm Sunday afternoon In
comparison The talk flowed on along
with other things. Hal told me his ia
Their 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 happened
TO have a key 10 the place-the key
TO the big front door. l guess. from the
weight of it-and he gave 1t to me- he
also wrote you TO look after me. SO