Newspaper Page Text
•><OR IO L E
THE POETESS.
Synopsis.—Proud possessor of a
printing- press, and equipment, the
gift of Uncle Joseph to his nephew,
Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr.,
aged thirteen, the fortunate youth,
with his chum, Henry Rooter,
about the same age, begins the
publication of a full-fledged news
paper, the North End Daily Ori
ole. Herbert’s small cousin, Flor
ence Atwater, being barred from
any kind of participation in the
enterprise, on account of her in
tense and natural feminine desire
to “boss,” is frankly annoyed, and
not at all backward in saying so.
However, a poem she has written
is accepted for Insertion in the
Oriole, on a strictly commercial
basis—cash In advance.
PART I—Continued.
— 3—
Herbert at once withdrew a few
steps, placing his hands behind him.
“Listen, here,” he said, “you think we
got time to read a lot o’ writin’ In
your ole handwritin’ that nobody can
read anyhow, and then go to work and
toll and moil to print it on the printin’
press? I guess we got work enough
printin' what we wrote for our news
paper our own selves! My goodness,
Florence, I told you this isn’t any
child’s play!”
Florence appeared to be somewhat
battled. “Well,” she said. “Well, you
better put this poem in your ole news
paper if you want to have anyhow one
thing in it that won’t make everybody
sick that reads it.”
“I won’t do it!” Herbert said, more
firmly.
“What you take us for?” his partner
added, convincingly.
“All right, then,” Florence respond
ed, with apparent decisiveness. “I’ll
go back and tell Uncle. Joseph and he’ll
take this printing press back.”
“He will not take it back. I already
did tell him how you keep pokin’
around tryin’ to run everything, and
we just worried our lifes out tryin’ to
keep you away. He said he bet it was
a hard job; that’s-what Uncle Joseph
said. So go on, tell him anything you
want to. You don’t get yor ole poem
in our newspaper!”
“Not if she lived to be two hundred
years old!” Henry Rooter added.
Then lie had an afterthought. “Not
unless she pays for it.”
“How do you mean?” Herbert asked,
puzzled.
Henry’s brow had become corrugat
ed with no little professional impres
siveness. “You know what we
talkin’ about this morning,” he said.
“‘How the right way to run our news
paper, we ought to have some adver
tisements in it and everything. Well,
we want money, don’t we? We could
put this poem in our newspaper like
an advertisement; that is, if Florence
lias got any. money, we could.”
Herbert frowned. “If her ole poem
isn't too long. I guess we could. Here,
let’s see it, Florence." And, taking
the sheet of paper in his hand, he
studied the dimensions of the poem,
though without paining himself to read
It. “Well, I guess, maybe we can do
it,” he said. “How much ought wo to
charge her?”
This question plunged Henry Rooter
into a state of calculation, while Flor
ence observed him with veiled anxi
ety ; but after a time he looked up,
his brow showing continued strain.
“Do you keep a bank, Florence —for
nickels and dimes and maybe quar
ters, you know?” he inquired.
It was her cousin who impulsively
replied for her. “No, she don’t,” lie
said.
“Not since I was about seven years
old!” Florence added sharply, though
with dignity. “Do you still make mud
pies in your back yard, pray?”
“Now, see here!” Henry objected.
“Try and be a lady anyway for a few
minutes, can’t you? I got to figure
out how much we got to charge you
for your ole poem, don’t I?”
“Well, then,” Florence returned,
“you better ask me somep’m about
that, hadn’t you?”
“Well,” said Henry Rooter, “have
you got any money at home?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Have you got any money with
you?”
“Yes. I have.”
“How much is it?”
“I won't tell you.”
Henry frowned. “I guess we ought
to make her pay about two dollars and
a half,” he said, turning to his part- 1
r,er.
Herbert felt deferential; It seemed,
to him that he had formed a business
association with a genius, and for a
moment be was dazzled; then he re
membered Florence’s financial capac
ities, always well known to him, and
lie looked depressed. Florence, her
self, looked Indignant.
“Two dollars and a half!" she cried.
“Why, I could buy this whole place
for two dollars and a half, printing
press, railing, and all—yes, and you
thrown in, Mister Henry Rooter!”
“See here, Florence,” Henry said
, earnestly, “haven’t you got two dol
| lars and a half?”
“Of course she hasn’t!” his partner
j assured him. “She never had two
; dollars and a half in her life!”
; “Well, then,” said Henry gloomily,
| “what we goin’ to do about it?
How much you think we ought to
charge her?”
Herbert’s expression became non
committal. “Just let me think a min
ute,” he said; and with his hand to
bis brow stepped behind the unsus
picious Florence.
“I got to think,” he murmured; then
with the straightforwardness of his
age. be suddenly seized his damsel
cousin from the rear and held her in
a tight but far from affectionate em
brace, pinioning her arms. She
shrieked. “Murder!” and “Let me go!”
and “Help! Hay-yulp!”
“Look in her pocket,” Herbert
shouted. “She keeps her money in
her skirt pocket when she’s got any.
It’s on the left side of her. Don’t let
her kick you ! Look out!”
“I got it I” said the dexterous Henry,
retreating and exhibiting coins. “It’s
-one dime and two nickels —twenty
cents. Has she got any more pock
ets?”
“No, ] haven’t!’’ Florence fiercely
informed him. as released
her. “And I guess you better hand
that money you don’t want to
be arrested for stealing!”
Henry was unmoved. “Twenty
cents,” he said calculntingly. “Well,
all right; it isn’t much, but you can
have your poem in our newspaper for
twenty cents, Florence. If you don’t
want to pay that much, why take your
ole twenty cents and go on away!”
“Yes,” said Herbert. “That’s ns
cheap as we’ll do it, Florence. Take
it or leave it.”
“Take it or leave it,” Henry Rooter
agreed. “That’s the way to talk to
her; take it, or leave it, Florence. If
you don’t take it you got to leave it.”
Florence was indignant, but she de
cided to take it. “All right,” she said
coldly. “I wouldn’t pay another cent
if I died for it.”
“Well, you haven’t got another cent,
so that’s all right,” Mr. Rooter re
marked ; and he honorably extended
an open- palm, supporting the coins,
toward hjs partner. “Here, Herbert;
you can have the dime, or the two
nickels, whichever you rather have.
It makes no difference to me; I’d as
soon have one as the other.”
Herbert took the two nickels, and
turned to Florence. “See here, Flor
ence,” he said, in a tone of strong
complaint. “This business is all done
and paid for now. What you want to
hang around here any more for?”
“Yes, Florence,” his partner faith
fully seconded him, at once. “We
haven’t got any more time to waste j
around here today, and so what you j
want to stand around in the way and
everything for? You ought to know
yourself we don’t want you.”
“I’m ry>t in the way,” said Florence
Hotly. “Whose way am I in?”
“Well, anyhow, if you don’t go,”
Herbert informed her, “we’ll carry
you downstairs and lock you out.”
“I’d just like to see you 1” she re-j
turned, her eyes flashing. “Just you
dare to lay a finger on me again!”!
And she added, “Anyway, if you did. '
those ole doors haven’t got any lock
on ’em. I’ll come right straight in and
walk right straight up the stairs \
again!”
Herbert advanced toward her. “Now
you pay attention to me,” he said.
“You’ve paid for your ole poem, and !
we got to have some peace around
here. I’m goin’ straight over to your
mother and ask her to come and get
you.”
Florence gave up. "What differ- j
ence would that make, Mister Taddle
tale?” she inquired mockingly. “I
wouldn’t be here when she came, j
would I? I’ll thank you to notice
there’s some value to my time, myself; <
find I’ll just politely ask you to ex- |
cuse me, pray!”
With a proud air, she crushlngly j
departed; and returned to her cwn
HENRY COUNTY WEEKLY, McDONOUGH, GEORGIA,
home, far from dissatisfied with what
she had accomplished. Moreover, site
began to expand with the realization
of a new importance; and she was
gratified with the effect upon her
parents, at dinner that evening, when
she informed them that she had writ
ten a poem which was to be pub
lished in the prospective first number
of the North End Daily Oriole.
“Written a poem?” said her father.
"Well, I declare! Why, that’s remark
able. Florence!”
“I’m glad the hoys were nice about
it, said her mother. "I should have
feared they couldn’t appreciate It,
after being so cross to you about let
ting you hnve anything to do with the
printing press. They must hnve
thought It was a very good poem.”
“Where Is the poem, Florence?” Mr.
Atwater asked. “Let’s read it and
see what our little girl can do.”
Unfortunately Florence had not a
copy, and when she informed her fa
ther of this fact, he professed himself
greatly disappointed as well ns
anxious for the first appearance of the
Oriole, that he might felicitate him
self upon the evidence of His daugh
ter's heretofore unsuspected tnlent.
Florence was herself anxious for the
newspaper’s debut, and she made her
anxiety so clear to Atwater & Root
er, Owners & Propreitors,” every
afternoon after school, during the fol
lowing week, that by Thursday fur
ther argument and repartee on their
part were felt to he indeed futile, and
in order to hnve a little peace around
there they carried her downstairs. At
least they defined their action as
“carrying," and, having deposited her
in the yard, they were obliged to
stand guard at the doors, which they
closed and contrived to hold against
her until her strength was worn out
for that day.
Florence consoled herself. During
the week she dropped In on all the
members of “the family”—her grand
father. uncles and aunts and cousins,
her great-uncles—and In ench instance,
after no protracted formal prelim
inaries, lightly remarked that she
wrote poetry now; her to appear
,S - -
“Look in Her Pocket,” Herbert Shout
ed. ‘‘Don’t Let Her Kick You!”
in tiie forthcoming Oriole. And when
Great-Aunt Carrie sr.id, “Why, Flor
ence, you’re wonderful! I couldn’t
write a poem to save my life. I never
could sec how they do it,” Florence
laughed, made a deprecatory little side
motion with her head, and responded:
“Why, Aunt Carrie, that’s nothing 1 It
just kind of comes to you.”
This also served* as her explanation
when some of her school friends ex
pressed their admiration, after being
told the news in confidence; though to
tiie teachers she said, smiling ruefully,
as in remembrance of midnight oil,
“It does take work, of course!”
When opportunity offered, upon the
street, she joined people she knew —
and even rather distant acquaint
ances —and walked with them a little
way, and with unaffected directness
led the conversation to the subject of
poetry, including her own contribution
to that art. Altogether, if Florence
was not in a fair way to become a
poetic celebrity it was not her own
fault but entirely that of the North
End Daily Oriole, which was to make
its appearance on Saturday, but failed
to do so, on account of too much en- !
thusinsrn on the part of Atwater & ;
Rooter in manipulating the printing
press. It broke, had to be repaired;
and Florence, her nerves upset by the
accident, demanded her money back.
This was impossible, and the postpone
ment proved to lie nn episod,e; more
over it gave time to let more people
know of tiie treat that was coming.
Among these was Noble I)i!i, Flor- '
ence’s Ideal. Until tlie Friday follow
ing her disappointment she had found :
no opportunity to acquaint this being
with tiie news; and hut for an encoun
ter, partly due to chance, he might ]
not have heard of it. Mr. Dill was
twenty-two, but that was his only per
eeptible distinction. Lu was kind,
usually, and not unpleasant in appear
ance or attire; yet ha had neither
beauty nor that look of power which
Is said to joggle women from their
natural poise. He was the most every
day young man in all the town; and
Florence’s selection of him to be her
Ideal still awaits a precise explana
tion. Nevertheless, it had happened;
and a sentimental enrichment of color
In her cheeks was the result of her
catching sight of him, as she was on
tlie point of opening and entering her
own front door that Friday afternoon
on her return from school. He was
pnssing the house, walking somewhat
dreamily.
Florence stepped Into the sheltering
vestibule, peeping round it with ear
nest eyes to watch him as he went hy;
obviously he bad taken no note of her.
Satisfied of this, she waited until he
was at a little distance, then ran
lightly to the gate, hurried after him,
and joined him.
“Why, Mr. Dill!’’ she exclaimed, in
her mother’s most polished manner.
“How surprising to see you! I pre
sume, as we both happen to be walk
ing in tlie same direction, we might
just ns well keep together.”
Mr. Noble Dill inquire* about
Aunt Julia.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
PLANTS GUARDED BY NATURE
As “Infants," the Saplings Are by Nc
Means Defenseless Against ln<
jury From Fire.
Young long-leaf plants protect them
selves against forest tires in a most
interesting and remarkable way. Foi
four or live years the stems of the
infant trees attain a height of only
us many Inches above tlie soil. Dur
ing this time their bark Is extraordi
narily thick, and that alone gives some
protection. But in addition tlie long
-needles spring up above tlie stem, aud
then bend over on all sides in a greeu
cascade which falls to the ground In
a circle about the seedling.
This greeu barrier can, with ditfl
culty, be made to burn, while the
shade that it casts prevents inflamma
ble grass from growing near the pro
tected stem,
It Is thought that It Is owing to
this peculiar system of self-protec
tion which the pine seedlings have
developed that the growth of the ever
green oaks In Florida has been re
stricted In regions where fires have
raged, while pure pine forests have
taken their place.
’ ’
For Old Time's Sake.
In (lie office of tlie prison warden a(
Canon City, Colo., a clever and notori
ous swindler was being divested of the
contents of his pocket. As each arti
cle was removed it was carefully ex
amined, listed, and then placed tem
porarily on a nearby desk. Among
the articles was a badly tarnished sil
ver dollar, barely distinguishable as
money.
At the conclusion of the search the
prisoner pointed to the dull-looking
ing coin and in a suppliant tone asked
the warden:
“Would you mind letting me keej
that with me?”
“Why?" asked the warden.
“Oh, just a little sentiment, I sup
pose,” tlie prisoner explained. “You
know, it’s tlie first dollar I ever stole.”
Lesson from Northcliffe.
Lord Northcliffe, owner of many
newspapers and‘magazines, including
the London Times and the London
Mail, still goes out as a reporter. lie
says: “If I wanted tj be a good build
er I would learn to be a good brick
layer,” another way of saying what an
American would phrase as “knowing
one’s business from the ground up."
Success comes only from thorough
knowledge of a business or profession
It is as important to know the primary
facts of a business as it is for at
astronomer to know mathematics. Tin
man who depends upon the knowiedgt
of others in the fundamentals of hit
business is always in danger.—Chlcagt
Journal of Commerce.
Books the Result of Dreams.
Dr. Anna Kingsford, a well-know*,
writer of a generation ago, declared
that almost every line she published
had come to her during sleep. Of orn
of her books she wrote: “These chron
icles are not the result of any con
scions effort of Imagination. They ar<
records of dreams occurring at inter
vals during the last few years.”
Denmark Seeks Cheaper Power.
Denmark is building windmills t<
product electric power, owing to th<
high cost of fuel.
Modest Estimate.
There are 1,564,373 excuses to giv»‘
the wife for getting home late, bu;
none of them are any good.
Eleven Feet of Slipperiness.
The green morny is the longest o
the eel family, sometimes reaching
11 feet In length.
NO OBSTACLE
fs*
Mr. Peck—q know how to manage
my wife.
Miss Henn —Then why don’t you dc
it?
Mr. Peck —Because she’s so ohstk
nate she won’t let me.
w lost.
j a. Mary had a little
Lla m b
- ’Twas gentle aa
h ,)Up >
When Mary took
h- out one
tV/ The Reef Trust.
J* . grabbed t*
i I
A NATURAL.
QUESTION. f
Mrs. B. :How ■ fpjst'
beautifully £§\\
they dance to- T
Yes. I wonder \
whose hus- |j|
band her part
ner
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