The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1918-02-26
INSPIRED LETTER
BY w. KENNEDY.

serious upon his mind than the writ
ing of two letters. 1t was a clear,
cold winter evening. with just a bit too
much of a whipping wind to be COM
Portable, and II vas with a of
relief that he entered his comfortable
apartments and found a cheerful fire
blazing i'm the CRATE in his sitting room.
Saintsbury was one of those young fell
lows who may be described as nicely
fixed" His apartments were not ''too
much" but just right. He dropped
into an easy chair and ran his eye
casually over the evening paper. Then
anne a parenthetical smoke, and he
sat down to his desk to write his let
tiers.
Saintsbury's two letters were as dis
similar as it is possible to imagine. One
was merely a note to Edith Crawford
asking her to go with him to see ICY
rano de Bergerac'' the latter part of
the week. Yet how fondly he wrote
it. He began the note Dear Edith"
writing the words with a caress. and
he sat admirfng his own rashness,
though he knew he was merely writing
for his own %edifieation and that the ar
istocratic Miss Crawford would
see what he had there written. He
scrubbed the name all over the page
and then, with a sigh, laid the sheet
aside and began TO write the formal
note which he always sent to- Miss
Crawford. Saintsbury was so deeply
in love with this lady that it actually
scared him.
The second letter which he had 10
write was for a friend who was in
love and wished to send a beautiful
letter announcing this fact to the wom-
an he adored, but did not know how
to do it. "Write me a letter, John"
said Dick. "as if you were writing to
your own girl John e%ndeavored TO
follow out these instructions. He did
not kno% the name of Dicks sweet
heart, and in order to do his best he
addressed the letter to Edith Crawford.
intending to leave her name out when
he copied the letter. He found IL easy
to write under these circumstances,
and when it was concluded he read 1t
over and glowed with the beauty of 1t.
He could find no fault with 1t, and he
felt hat he could not improve upon it
by rewriting it. So what was the use
of rewriting it? Dick had TO copy it
anyway in his own nervy hand. So
he took out a couple OF envelopes and
addressed them and enclosed the let
tiers, having forgotten all about leav-
ing Edith Crawford's name in his
friends letter.
The next day at the bank he was
rung up by his friend Daniels. Il say"
said Dick over the telephone, "you
didn't know that you sent me a letter
addressed to a friend of yours, did
you? What's up. anyway, old boy?"
John remembered then that he had
forgotten to erase Miss Crawford's
NAME, and he blushed through the
phone as he replied: "Oh, that's all
right. Just scratch her name out and
/ think 1t will do"
you haven't given yourself away
.a-plenty, have your" said Dick.
Could it be that he snapped the let
tiers and sent Edith's to Dick and
Dicks to Edith? The idea was quite
amusing until he remembered that
Edith's name was in the beautiful love
letter. 1t was impossible hat he could
have made such a mistake, but he was
vaguely uneasy about it, and that eve
ming he fastened out to Miss Craw-
ford's to set the matter at rest.
He found her in the drawing room
alone, and looking .pensively into the
dainty she was in the freight glow
He broke it awkwardly: did you
get a letter from me?"
"Yes," she answered with adorable
softness.
swell, did Ibid you-can you tell
me what | wrote-I mean did / say"
II do not understand you, Mr..
Saintsbury," said Miss Crawford, rath-
er distantly.
Pardon me, but 1 mean, did l ask
you in the letter you received whether
you cared"
us it possible you do not remember
what you wrote mel" she inquired,
with beautiful ieiness.
"Why, of course; but 1 fear there
has been some mistake"
Miss Crawford was not only amazed,
but she was apparently quite angry.
AS for him, he was In agony of doubt.
Pardon my awkwardness," he said
with a smile, land l will explain. Last
night 1 had to write two letters. One
asked you TO go with me to see 'Cy-
rano de Bergerac.' eThe other was writ
ten for a friend, who asked me to write
it as if l were addressing the woman
j loved"
Then" said Edith, with a sort Of
sweet dismay, "thIs letter was not for
me?'
"Oh, yes 1t was. 1t went straight
by mistake. That was all" said John.
"But what becomes of the invitation
to see 'CyranoF'" asked Edith.
Bother Cyranol" cried John, now