Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1929-02-21
By
G. B, Stern

deserted child for q month or two.
possibly even longer. I've always had
a fancy for your room, Hilary"
Wholly unable to account for the
pang which his fathers suggestion had
caused him, Hilary attempted q Joke:
DO you prefer my room to my COM
pany. sir?"
Il like the view Of the Victoria and
Albert muSeum!" The old man evaded
the question Of Hilary's company. Il
think it may steady me. It's flatter-
ing. at my age. that there are still
certain French critics who consider
that / am not serious. BY the way
Chris, I hear that Not at Home to
Hannibal is being translated by Louis
Moineau, OF all people. You're lucky!'
Hilary left them absorbed in the dis
cussion of their foreign rights. What
a good thing" he thought, for the hun
dredth time, that they get on SO well
tOgether!"
Perhaps, after all, they were right
about him, and he had been overwork-
ing. This exhaustion was rot natural.
Yet his dependency did not lift
when he found himself. on mis- first
evening at the exclusive little Grand
AAOeNA NC OAAtNAo, 4 u lCc, uIlllk-
ing his coffee on the veranda outside
the dining room.
MoOdily, he watched the other people
in the hotel. He wished that either
Lawrence or Christopher had cared to
come along. Selfish Of them not to
have thought Of it," His temper rose
Glad to get me out of the Way!" He
kicked at the table on which stood his
coffee, and spilled 1t. 1t ran over the
edge Of the marble onto a small white
terrier. The coffee was hot, and the
terrier leaped up yapping, and, not un-
reasonably, tried to bite Hilary.
"Plppin!' His mistress, a pretty girl
with large adoring eyes and a mouth
always slightly open, as though in ex-
pectation OF heavenly mama, darted
forward to rescue the calf Of Hilary's
leg. Their mutual apologies, and the
ed of calf, led them into conversation
half laughing, half embarrassed.
You've only just come. haven't
Eyes: Yes. I'm supposed to be TAX
ing a long rest"
%. have you been working too
hard?"
This is an accusation which is always
pleasant, and in Hilary's case it was
fortunately also true. He assented
with the usual murmur of depreciation,
Il suppose you're a pOlitician?" in
CURED, the girl, tentatively.
Dear me, no. Nothing SO important.
Only a writer"
She gave a shrill cry. 20. it's you
then! At least. . We couldn't help
seeing, there were some letters, and as
we all know each other here-it's only
a small hotel, but it's awfully jolly Just
to be one group like this, but then, OF
course, any one coming in-And the
name! Please forgive me, but are
YOU"
1t was coming, the usual question.
Hilary braced himself to meet it.
Are you the Mr.. Cliffe who wrote
The Devil a Monk Would Be'?"
YES" said Lawrence Cities son.
The nonentity, the cipher, had re-
volted at last.
Co." gasped the girl, enormously i'm
pressed. And is that the same, then
no. it isn't, is it'll mean. you aren't
the Mr.. Cliffe who wrote Not at Home
to Hannibal'?"
yes" said Christopher Clffe's
father.
He was coldly amused at himself,
now that he had burst the tether which
had held him to a negative personality.
Now that by violence, by betrayal, by
deception and a few other primitive
sins he had seized not only one but
W glOrieS that were not rightfully his.
Now that he recognized that he had
been jealous of them both; jealous of
his father, jealous of his son; jealous
of their fame.
Sometimes it skips a generation.
Overwork? Nonsense! No man had
ever yet turned his back upon life from
overwork. That worry, that discomfort,
that nausea of the day which hung
grimly about your spirit when you
woke in the morning was not born of
Overwork. Much more likely that it
was born OF work which did not mat
ter enough, of that tOrmenting wish to
be important.
Of course he was lionized in the
hotel after his confession. 1.-The aw-
fully jolly little group who had been
there some time and who all knew
each other" were thrilled at finding
such a celebrity staying among them.
His technique as q rObber and as a
liar proved quite amazing, even to him.
self; his enterprises swelled and scared
into the air like bold balloons upheld
by the winds Of sheer confidence.
For instance, in mentioning that SEN
SatiOnal party which Lawrence Cliffe
had once given in honor of a non-ex-
iStent poet Of the "greenery gallery
whom he had invented to
Oscar Wilde, Hilary was natur-
ally reminded by n of the fascinated
audience-who followed him all over
the hotel and sat in clumps around
he must surely have been a
very young host in the early eighties?
F.. -. Actually, Hilary had been about
four when the party had happened.
He felt a little giddy, but not alarming
ly SO; and by dint OF sprinkling dates
and publications and events like pepper
from a pepper pot, till, metaphorically
speaking, his listeners were all sneez-
ing in a cloud of bewilderment, he was