The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1915-12-23
The Evening Story
With Twenty-Six Letters.
(By Jane Osborn.l

I
allowed to grow unmolested in the
middle of the newly-mown bayfield,.
It's not my tree and It's not my
shade the man in overalls drawled
with the unwillingness to answer q
question directly that was character
But if it were mine I'd give you a
deed for life on that particular spot
of shade. You see, Mr.. Owens owns
the farm. I'm just"
tOf course, Mr.. Owens doesn't OBJ
jcct," the girl laughed, gathering a
neat collection of stones from the
ground where she was sitting. You
are Mr.. Owens new help, aren't you
And your name is Tom Fenn," said
the girl pleasantly, opening a port
folio that was part Of her equipment.
Yes, and you're Miss Betty Brown
and you are visiting your aunt at the
talking about you this morning. But
may I ask what you are going to do
with those stones?"
Certainly" the girl smiled, 'and
I'll tell you. I am about to begin my
mornings writing out here under this
down the papers The chief trouble
with writing outdoors IS that the pa
pers blow about, but 1 simply can't
even read in there"
The farmer had dropped the bucket
that he was carrying and had stopped
to pick up the book that lay at the
girls feet.
You wouldn't care much for that"
she explained. Il don't imagine
Ridgeway Norris is read much in this
part of the country. In fact, couldn't
understand him myself at first. But he
is all the rage with real writers. 1
try to read little before I start to
write He is so stimulating"
What did you say his name was ?"
The farmer had dropped the book and
stood looking eagerly at the girl NO,
I guess we don't go in for anything
like that up here. He's what you d
call a highbrow, isn't her.
"Oh, decidedly smiled the girl, be-
ginning the mornings operations by
putting long, tapering points on the
collection of pencils she had brought
with her.
THE owens folks didn't say that
you were a writer"
The girl laughed. ''They don't know
it. 1 never sold anything-that is.
anything to brag about-and ] don't
talk much Of my ambitions. But I'm
crazy about it, The girl pressed the
book by Ridgeway Norris to her and
gave a delightful little laugh of hap
piness. Just think of what won
derful thing it is! Just think what
man like Norris can do with just
those twenty-siX little letters of the
alphabet-makes you laugh or cry,
fills you with dread, suspicion, Joy or
remorse to suit his whim, and all
ters.''
"'Tis queer" said the farmer me-
ditatively. Il never thought OF writ
ing that way before. 1 have some
the uggestion-''that might do lit
tie writing myself. There is one story
I could tell that 1 think would make
folks sit up and take notice. If l
only had some one to help me. Say"
he added with a smile that fascinated
You'd
are beginner, too. Well, suppose we
begin together. can't get much time
off, but I'll ask Mr.. Owens about CIV
ing me two or three hours every morn
ing. Work is a little slack anyway.
guess he'll let me-"
Betty knit her brUws ever so slight
ly and then something in the keen
young face of the farmer treasured
her ct am sure 1 should enjoy it,
she said Even If we don't get very
far it will at least give me a new point
of view
The next morning at the appointed
hour Betty found her farmer collabor-
ator seated under the tree in the
shade. He was neatly putting points
on the assortment or pencils that he
explained they let him have cheap at
the general store.
You see," he told Betty, as she
spread her cushion down on the grass
and arranged the folds of her dainty
frock about her. 'I have got the
stones collected" He pointed to a pile
Of the most symmetrical stones he
been able to gather in the field. so
far, think am learning well. Now,
what is the next thing to do? Have
you got that highbrow book that you
we're telling me about?"
Betty explained that she had de-
eided Ridgeway Norris ought to be
eft at home I'VE must forget that
my one ever wrote a story before we
lid We must fill our minds so full of
he characters and the plot we are
writing about that We'll just have to
ell our story well. If we sell it we
ire to go fifty fifty, aren't we? Now
you tell me that plot of yours
The farmer man vas reticent. He |
old Betty that it was the first time |
n his life that he had ever spoken (
o any one of the strange stories that |
;ame into his thoughts. And as he /
old it-a story weird in its combina- |
ion of commonplace events of a coun- |
ry neighborhood and tense emotional /
situations, simple in the actual events |
t related and in the characters it |
handled, yet making a whole that was |
ensely dramatic-Betty forgot about I
he apple tree and the meadow. She
wen forgot that she was Betty, pink
lad and pretty, and that she was
listening to the faltering voice of a
'oor country laborer.
IF we can only get it into the story
s you have told it to mel" she ex-
laimed, when the man had finished.
But that's where the art comes in.
hat is where experience and training
cunt. If a man like Norris could
My handle it,
A shadow of disappointment came
yer the young mans face. Il thought
GU were going to forget those high
rows I thought you and 1 were 60
ng to do something original. Going
0 beat them at their own game Now
ere goes. I don't know how to be-
in stories or how to end them like
hose regular writers. so don't let's
ave a beginning. Just let's start
light in at the places where you be-
in to catch your breath and wonder