The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1931-03-05


(CopyriGht.)
WHEN Jean Barry returned home
w after collecting a number of re-
jected stories from editorial offices she
had so settled it in her own mind to
give up story writing that she didn't
really mind the fact that she had left
the bundle Of "dud' manuscripts
somewhere.
81 don't know and | don't care"
she told herself dcfiantly and swished
Q sudden tear from her eyes. She
wondered vaguely if she had left them
in the subway and whether the person
who found them would return them.
John Winter, who found the packet
on the subway when he went home
from the office, glanced through them
for an address, found the name, Dud-
ley De Voc, and a street and number
in the West Sixties, and wondered
what to do with them.
"Ill Just take them along to old
Binks: he'll know what's best and
may give him plot as WELL"
Old Binks happened to be st. John
Binks. writer of no small fame and
Winters best pal.
"Picked up some poor chaps rawlings
coming home tonight" he told BinkS,
and handed over the packet. Thought
you might like to give them the casual
before sending them back"
Looks as if he had shopped them
all over the place." was Binks' inter
ested comment.
Consequently, a day or two later,
Jean Barry received letter that first
enraged, then amused, then interested
her.
It began, "Dear De voe," and Jean
laughed as she habitually did wheD
addressed as q man. Your stories
have come into my hands. I am go
ing to rewrite and sell them for you.
You must be very young and inexperi-
enced in women's wiles. Your women
characters are feeble-women aren't
like that nowadays. Your plots and
manner are splendid but characterize
ton awful. / don't want to meet
YOU yet as it would perhaps weaken
my conception of these characters or
you might try to talk me into some
thing I could not see. These stories
are quite unstable as they are, and
I see they have been rejected, so feel
confident you won't mind my col
liberation. VIII post on half the
check to you as each story is pub
Nshed. Yours, xxx"
swell, of all things! Nerve! Con-
ceit! 1 don't know anything about
women, don't 1? Oh, well, 1 should
worry anyway. There may be nothing
in this letter but the rawlings of a
slightly demented old thing or--better
still might get some checks"
Then one sunny morning Jean
opened letter in which was a check
80 big as to make her gasp and clutch
her hair and cry and then sing. After
all that she glanced through the short
note.
'Watch Post week Of NINTH"
Jean scarcely ate or slept until that
Friday morning dawned when she
could get the Post.
There it was with her own title,
"Trifers," by Dudley De Voc and st.
John Binks.
"St. John Binks-seems to me
know that name" muttered Jean as
she rushed home to read the story.
There was no slightest doubt of it be-
ing an extraordinarily good yarn now
that it was masterfully written.
jeans next act was to write short
note to Binks, care of Post.
"Have reserved third table on left
at Golywog, Thursday evening. Please
don't disappoint. Will have magazine
lying on table. De Voc"
When Bnks stood in the low door
way of the Golywog to survey the hui
man contents of that quaint dining
place of upper Bohemia he fell to q
sudden wish that some one sitting
across the room could be his dinner
partner. She was very, very alluring.
Then, Binks turned hot, then cold,
was possessed of a wild desire to es-
cape and q still wilder one to be
dragged to his fate.
Suddenly she smiled. st. John Binks
knew that in some purely feminine
way she had recognized him as hes
collaboration. He went swiftly over
and before sitting down opposite her
had felt the warming glow in her
finger clasp.
"You have been perfectly wonder
full to me-" she was saying, and little
sparkles of electricity seemed to be
swapping all about her. IF there is
that much-talked-of place called a
Seventh Heaven you have certainly
put me there. 1 do want TO thank
you"
st. John Binks finally found his
voice and to very good advantage
"You are thanking me-there was only
one thought that entered my brain
when l stepped through that door and
it was that I might be sitting right
here-and here I am. Isn't life great
sometimes" He was gazing unbe-
lievingIy right into Jeans intelligent
eyes.
Sometimes" responded Jean, alias
Dudley De Voc. And there was some
thing about the manner in which she
cast down her eyes that augured we'll