The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1914-02-18
BIOOERS
copyrieht. 1915. by the BO5bs-nferEill
 Company

(Continned)
 It was not the wh1r of windmills, but the creak of a gate in the storm that brought MT. Magee at last to a stop. He walked gladly up the path to Elijah Quimby.s door.
 In answer to Billy Magee's gay 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 MT. Magee into the intimacy of the kitchen, and took mum Der of calm Judicious puffs .on the pipe be- fore speaking to his visitor.
 ssMy names Magee," blithelys ex- plained that gentleman, dragging in his bags. seAnd you're Elijah Quimby, of course. How are you? Glad to see you"
 The older man did not reply, but regarded MT. Magee wonderingly through white puffs of smoke. His face was kindly, gentle, intellectual
 'eYes." he admitted at last. "Yes, I'm Quimby-
 MT. Magee threw back his coat, and sprayed with snow Mrs. Quirnby's i'm maculate floor.
 sTm Magee,r he elucidated again, ssWflIiam Hallowell Magee, the man Hal Bentley wrote to you about. You got his letter, didn't you?'
 Mr. Qufmby removed his pipe and forgot to close the aperture. as he stared i'm amazement.
 "Good Lerd, he cried; "you don't nean-you'vetrea1ly come7 Why, we we thought it was all a joker >tHal Bentley has his humorous mo ments,~ agreed MT. Magee, but it isa;t his habit to fling his jests into Upper Asquewan Falls. 7
 @And-and you're really going to- ME Quimby could get no further.
 sYes,'e said MT. Magee brightly, slip ping into rocking chair. @sYes, Pm geing Do spend the next few months at Ba1dpate inn
 esItas closed" expostulated MT Quinn by. 'tThe inn is closed, young fellow. 2 'T know it's closed ssmfled Magee. That's the very reason Pm going to honor it with my presence. Pm sorry to take you out on a night like this, but I'll have to ask you to lead me up to Baldpate. believe those were Hal Bentley's instructions-in the letter.
 Mr. Quimby lowered above MT. Ma gee, q shirt sleeyed statue of honest American manhood He sceTIed-
 Excuse plain question, young man." he said, but what are you hid ing from 77
 sTm not hiding,'' said Magee. Didn't Bentley explain? We'll: I'll try to. though I'm not sure you'll understand. Sit down, MT. Quimby- You are not, ] take it, the sort of man to folIoT close Iy the frivolous literature of the day"
 aWh@ts that?'' inquired MT. Quimby
 You don't read,'' continued MT. Ma. gee, s-the sort of novels chat are sold by the pound in the department stores Now, if you had a daughter-a fluffy daughter inseparable from a hammock in the summer-she could help me ex plain You see-I write those novels wild thrilling tales for the tired busi ness man's tired wife shots in ths night, chases after fortunes, Cupit busy with his arrows all over ths pIacel It's good fun, and like to dt it. TheEe'g money in it.
 sTs there2s' asked .ME. Quiuby, witl a show of interest
 s~ConsfdeFable, replied MT. Magee | seBut now and then get longing t do something that will make the critics sit up-tha real thing, you know. Th' other day picked up q newspaper ant fsund my latest bEzfn child advertised as the best fall novel zAAagee eve Wrote.' It got on my nerves. I fel Ikea literary dressmaker, and coult see m1 public laying down my fal novel and signing for my early sprini stJAegs1n fictdon- I remembered tha once upon q time a critic advised m to9osmwny eoe ten pears to some quie spot and tAfnz- I decided to do Il Baadpate ann Is the quiet spot"
 'sYeu don't mean.' gasped Mfr. Quinn hys ~ehak you're going to stay ther fens syax9"
 - sv, as Nx 1x.< s>CJkeEacs %xaggerate. Two months wi tRo. They say I am cheap nlelc 6ra1na<ie ranfer They say I don't g deep. They say my thinking proces is a scream I'm afraid they're right Now, Tm going to go up to Baldpat inn and think. I'm going to get ava from nselodrama- I'm going to do novel SO fine and literary that Henr Cabot Lodge will come to me wit tears in his eyes and ask me to 1oi his bunch of self made tmmortaIs. II going to do all this up there at tn inn, sitting on the mountain and look ing down on this little old world a love looked down from Olympus
 'I don't know who you mean" ot jected Mr. Quimby.
 ssHe was a god-the god of the frui stand men," explained Magee. "Pit ture me, if you can, depressed by tn overwhelming success of my lates brain child. Picture me meeting HE Bentley in Forty fourth street clu and asking him for the. location of til lonesomest spot on earth Hal thougf a minute. I've got it. he said, 'th ionesouuest spot that's happened date n q summer resort in midwinte yt Hzz@e sJrusoets island look lik fsonav on a warm Sunday afternoon eomparison.' The talk flowed on alon with other things. Hal told me his fl tber owned Baldpate inn and that yo were an old friend Of his who woul be happy for the entire winter 0ve