Newspaper Page Text
- MISS MAYO'S ADVENTURE By George Cobbett. Little Miss Mayo crept guiltily up the street toward the apartment block in which she lived alone. In her hand, turned so that no passerby might see the incriminating title of the magazine, was "Youth." Little Miss Mayo had never made any friends since she had arrived in In the Company of "Youth" She Took Wonderful Journeys Nightly. the big city ten years before. She was much too shy for that, and, though she was only thirty-two, she had a settled look, the look of one who has thrown her spinsterhood about her and means to maintain it How did the little stenographer spend her evenings? She had spent them in much the same way during the whole ten years that had elapsed since Harry Leeson bade her a des pairing good-bye in their home vil lage. Leeson had loved her, bit he was a ne'er-do-well. He could not suc ceed. At twenty-seven he was ac knowledged a failure. And he had gone west with borrowed money, in a last attempt to do something. He had promised to write, but he had not written to her. And six months later, when her mother died, the last of her relatives, Miss Mayo had pack ed up and gone to the metropolis to earn her living. It had been a tremendous ordeal, this striking out alone. She had never summoned up initiative to change her place of residence since, oho lived alone, she drudged, a lone ly, pathetic figure in the office down town. But her evenings were ablaze with romance. Like many sensitive, shy, shrink ing people, Miss Mayo had the soul of an adventurer. And in the -company of "Youth" she took wonderful journeys nightly. Sometimes she was swept along breathlessly in the wake of Napoleon's triumphant arm ies; sometimes, a captive maiden, she longed for the arrival of the cav alier who was to rescue her from her oppressor. Sometimes she lived on an uninhabited island and saved a shipwrecked, university man with blonde locks curling round his hand some head. Sometimes she was a simple country girl, wooed by the millionaire of the district. But something of this sort was always oc curring to save Miss Mayo from go ing mad with ennui. Of all the writers who held her spellbound and breathless, none could equal Harold Trefusis. She pictured him, a dark-eyed, dashing hero, drawing upon her own adven tures for his material, with countless love affairs behind him and countless hearts still waiting to be broken. And this, in fact, accorded with the editor's own statements. For in stance, in the current number. "Our readers will be glad to learn that Mr. Harold Trefusis is returning to the scene of his last success Cuba in his forthcoming serial, 'The Maid of Lonely Key.' Mr. Tre- Jfusis spent several months in the.