Copyright , 1921- by the BellSyndicate.Inc,
By the end of October, with the dis
persal of that foliage which has served
all summer long as a pleasant screen
for whatever small privacy may exist
between American neighbors, we begin
to get our autumn high tides of gos
sip. At this season of the yenr, in our
towns of moderate size and ambition,
where apartment houses have not yet
condensed and at the same time
sequestered the population, one may
secure visual command of back yard
beyond back yard, both up and down
the street ; especially if one takes the
trouble to sit for an hour or so, daily,
upon the top of a high board fence at
about the middle of a block.
Of course an adult who followed
such a course would be thought pe
culiar; no doubt he would be subject
to undesirable comment, and presently
might be called upon to parry severe
If, Indeed, not hostile Inquiries; »but
boys are considered so inexplicable
that they have gathered for them
selves any privileges denied their
parents nnd elders ; and a boy can do
such a thing as this to his full content,
without anybody's thinking about it at
all. So it was that Herbert Illings
worth Atwater, Jr„ aged thirteen and
a few months, snt for a considerable
time upon such a fence, nfter school
hours, every afternoon of the last week
In October ; and only one person par
ticularly observed him or was stimu
lated to any mental activity by his
procedure. Even at that, this person
was affected only because she was
Herbert's relative, and of an age sym
pathetic to his—and of a sex antipa
In spite of the fact that Herbert II
llngsworth Atwater, Jr., thus seriously
disporting himself on his father's back
fence, attracted only this audience of
one (and she hostile at a rather dis
tant window) his behavler really
should have been considered piquant
ly interesting by anybody. After climb
ing to the top of the fence he would
produce from interior pockets a smalt
memorandum book and a pencil ; sel
dom putting these implements to im
mediate use. His expression was
gravely alert, his hnanner more than
businesslike; yet nobody could have
failed to comprehend that he was en
joying himself, especially when his at
titude became tense—as at times it
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And, mind you, no flashy package just for show.
No extra wrappers! No costly frills! These things
don't improve the smoke any more than premiums
But QUALITY! Listen! That's CAMELS 1
L i. REYVQLDS Tah.cc* C%
certainly did7 Then" he would rise, bal
ancing himself at adroit ease, his feet
aligned one before the other on the
inner rnll, a foot below the top of the
boards, and with eyes dramnticnlly
shielded beneath a seoutish palm, he
would gaze sternly In the direction of
some object or motion which had at
tracted his attention ; and then, having
He Would Sit Again and Decisively
Enter a Note In Hie Memorandum
satisfied himself of something or other,
he would sit again and decisively en
ter u note in his memorandum book.
He was not always alone; he was
frequently joined by a friend, male,
and, though shorter "than Herbert,
quite as old ; and tills companion was
inspired, it seemed, by motives pre
cisely similar to those from which
sprang Herbert's own actions. Like
Herbert, he would sit upon the top of
the high fence, usually at a little dis
tance from him : like Herbert he
would rise at intervals, for the better
study of somethin." this side of the
horizon; then, also concÏÏïïTTng TTfrV
Herbert, lie would sit again and write
firmly in a little notebook And sel
dom in the history of the world have
any sessions been invested by the par
ticipai t with so intentional an ap
nearan of importance.
That was what most injured their
lone observer at the somewhat distant
back window, upstairs at her own
place of residence; she found their im
portance almost impossible to bear
without screaming. Her provocation
was great; the important importance
of Herbert" and his friend, impressive
ly maneuvering upon their fence, was
so extreme as to be all too plainly vis
ible across four intervening broad
back yards ; in fact, there was almost
reason to suspect that the two per
formers were aware of their audience
and even of her goaded condition ; and
that they sometimes deliberately In
creased the outrageousness of their
importance becuuse they knew she
was watching them. And upon the
Saturday of that week, when the note
book writers were upon the fence at
intervals throughout the afternoon,
Florence Atwater's fascinated Indigna
tion became vocal.
"Vile things!" she said.
Her mother, sewing beside another
window of the room, looked up in
"What are, Florence?"
"Cousin Herbert and that nasty lit
tle Henry Rooter."
"Are you watching them ngaln?"
her mother asked.
"Tes, I am," said Florence, tartly.
"Not because I care to, but merely
to amuse myself at their expense."
Mrs. Atwater murmured deprecat
ingly, "Couldn't you find some other
way to amuse yourself, Florence?"
"T don't call this amusement," the
inconsistent girl responded, not with
out chagrin. "Think fd spend fill tny
dnys starin' at Herbert Illlngsworth
Atwater, Junior, and that nasty little
Henry Rooter, and call it amusement?"
"Then why do you do it?"
"Why do I do what, mama?" Flor
ence inquired ns if in despair of Mrs.
Atwnter's ever learning to put things
"Why do you 'spend all your days'
watching them? Tou don't seem able
to keep away from the window, and
it appears to make you irritable. I
should think if they wouldn't let you
play with them you'd be too proud—"
"Oh, good heavens, mama !"
"Don't use expressions like that,
"Well," said Florence, "I got to use
some expression when you accuse me
of wantin' to 'play' with those two vile
things! My goodness mercy, mama, I
don't want to 'play' with 'em ! I'm
more than four years old, 1 guess ;
though you don't ever seem willing to
give me credit for it. I don't haf to
'play' all the tttue, mama ; and, any
way. Herbert nnd that nasty little
Henry Rooter aren't playing, either."
"Aren't they?" Mrs. Atwater in
quired. "I thought the other day you
said you wanted them to let you play
at being a newspaper reporter, or edi
tor,.or somethin g lik e that, with,them,
.Hid tfiej were rude and told you to
away. Wasn't that it?"
Florence sighed. "No mama,
"They weren't rude to you?"
"Yes, they cert'nly were!"
"Mama, can't you understand!
Florence turned from the window
■eseech Mrs. Atwater's concentratioh
upon tlie matter. "It isn't 'playing
: didn't want to 'play' being a repor
er; they ain't 'playing'—"
"Aren't playing. Florence."
"Y'es'tu. They're not. Herbert's
aot a real printing press; Uncle Jo
seph gave it to him. It's a real one,
an ma, can't you understand?"
"I'll try." said Mrs. Atwater. "Toll
mustn't get so excited about it, Flor
"I'm not !" Florence turned vehe
mently. "I guess it'd take more than
hose two vile things and their oil
printin' press to get me excited! 1
lon't care what they do; it's far less
than nothing to me! All 1 wish is
; key'd fall off the fence nnd break
heir vile ole necks!"
With this manifestation of tmpo
sonal calmness, she turned again tr
Ute window ; but her mother protêt
ed. "Do find something else to nmu
you, Florence; and quit watchln
those foolish boys; you mustn't lot
them upset you so by their playing."
Florence moaned. "They don't 'up
set' me, mama ! They have no effect
on me by the slightest degree! And I
told you, manta, they're not 'playing.'"
"Then what are they doing?"
"Well, they're having u newspaper.
They got the printing press and alt
office in Herbert's ole stnble, and ev
erything. They got somebody to give
'em some ole banisters nnd a railing
from a house that was tom down
somewheres, and then they got It stuck
up In the stable loft, so it runs across
with n kind of a gate in the middle of
these banisters, and on one side lk
the printing press, nnd the other sidl'
they got u desk from that nasty little
Henry Rooter's mother's attic; and a
table nnd some chairs, nnd a mnp on
the wall ; and that's their newspaper
office. They go out nnd look for what's
the news, and write It down In Ink ;
and then they go through the gate tip
the other side of the rolling where th
printing press U, and print it for the!
"But what do they do on the fence
"That's where they go to watch
what the news Is," Florence explained
morosely. "They think they're so
grand, sittin' up there, pokin' uro nid.
They go other places, too; and they
ask people. That's all they said p
could be!" Here the Indy's bitterne
became strongly Intensified. "Th
sulil, maybe 1 could be one-o' the on
they asked if I knew anything, son
times, if they happen to think of it ! jl
just respect fly told 'em I'd decline t
j wipe my oldest shoes on 'em to snv
J their lives!"
Mrs. Atwater sighed. "Y'ou inustn
j use sueli expressions, Florence."
"I don't see why not," the da lighted
I objected. 'They're u lot more refine
I than the expressions they used o
I me !"
"Then I'm very glad you didn't pin
I with them."
! Bur at tills, Florence once raor
gave way to filial despair. "Maniai
you just can't see through anything!
I've said anyhow fifty times they ain't
—aren't playing! They're getting up ;|i
! real newspaper, and people buy it.
j and everything. They tiave been all
J over this purt of town and got over,
aunt, and uncle they have, besides thel
own fathers and mothers, and soin
people In the neighborhood, und Kitty
Silver und two or three other colored
people besides, that work for families
they know. They're going to charge
twenty-five cents a year, collect-in-ad*
vnnee because they want the money
lrst ; arid even pupa gave 'em a quarj
1er last night; lie told me so."
"How often do they publish their
paper, Florence?" Mrs. Atwater in
quired somewhat absently, having rej
sumed her sewing.
"Every week ; and they're goln' to
have the first one a week from to
"What do they call It?"
"The North End Daily Oriole. It's
the silliest name I ever heard for a
newspaper; und I told 'em so. I toll)
'em what I thought of it, I guess!"
"Was thut the reason?" Mrs. AtJ
"Was It what reason, mama?"
"Was It the reason they wouldn't
let you he u reporter with them?"
"Pooh!" Florence exclaimed airily.
"I didn't want anything to do with
their ole paper. But anyway I didn't
make fun o' their callin' It the North
End Daily Oriole till after the;, said
I couldn't be in it. Then I did, you
"Florence, don't say—"
"Mama, I got to say somep'm ! Well]
I told 'em I wouldn't be in their ole
paper If they begged me on their bent
ed knees ; and I said if they begged
me a thousand years I wouldn't bei
in any paper with such a crazy name ;|
and I wouldn't tell 'em any new*, if
I knew the President of the United
.States had the scarlet fever ! I Just
politely Informed 'em they could say
what they liked If they was dying; I!
declined so much as wipe the oldest
shoes I got on 'em !"
"But why wouldn't they let you t>^
on the paper?" her mother Insisted.
Upon this Florence became analyti
cal. "Just ao's they could act so im
portant !" And she addded, as a coni
sequence: "They ought to be arrest*
Mrs. Atwater murmured absently,
but forbore to press her inquiry ; end
Florence was silent, in a brooding
mood. The Journalists upon the fence
hail dlsaooeared. from view, during the
with her un>:, ci . ' and
sighed and quietly left
went to her own apurt
nt a small and rather
white desk, after a pe
lt reverie, she took up
point in purple ink, and
rent effort or any eriti
cal delaying», produced n pot
it was, in a sense, an original poem ;
though, like the greater number of all
literary offerings, it mis so strongly
inspirational that the source of its
inspiration might easily become mani
fest to a cold-blooded render. Never
theless, to the poetess herself, ns she
explained Inter in good faith, the words i
just seemed to come to lier —doubtless
with either genius or some form of
miracle Involved; for sources of in
spiration are seldom recognized by in
spired writers themselves. She had
not long ago lieen party to a musical
Sunday afternoon at her great-uncle
Joseph Atwater's house where Mr.
Clalrdyce, that amiable and robust
baritone, sang some of ills songs over
and over again, as long as the re
quests for them held out. Florence's
poem may have begun to coagulate
within her then.
THE ORGANIC ST
By Florence Atwater
The organest was seated at his orgun
In a church.
In some beautiful woods of maple and
Ho was very weary white he played jf an
But he was a great organest and always
played with ease,
When the soul Is weary.
And the wind Is dreary,
I would like to be an organes: seated all
day at the organ.
Whether my name might be Fairchild or
1 would play music like u vast amen.
The way It sounds in a church of men.
Florence read her poem over seven
or eight times, the deepening pleasure
of her expression being evidence that
repetition fniled to denature this work,
but, on the contrary, enhanced un ap
preciative surprise at Its singular mer
it Finally she folded the sheet of
paper with a delicate carefulness un
usual to her, and placed !t In her
skirt pocket. Then she went down
stairs and out Into the bnck yard.
With thoughtful and determined eye«
she obliqued her gaze over H.>
tervenlng fences to the repel fi
llup formed by the too-slmpfi- ■
of her cousin Herbert's father's sta
ble. Her next action was straight
forward and anything but prudish ; she
climbed the high board fences, one af
ter the other, until she came to u
pause at the top of that whereon the
two journalists had lately made them
selves so odiously Impressive.
Before her, if she had but taken
note of them, were u lesson in history
and tlie markings of a profound irnusj
tit>n in human evolution. Reside tlie
old frame stnble was a little brick
garage, obviously put to the dally use
intended by Its designer. Quit, ns ob
viously the stable was obsolete; any
body would have known from its out
side that there was no burse within
It. Here, visible, was the end of the
pnstorul age, It might be called,
from the Heidelberg Jawbone to Mar
coni. The new age begins with ma
chines that do away with laboring ani
mals and will proceed presently to
machines doing uwtty with laboring
men, although It Is true that cows
may remain in vogue for some time.
In spite of the fact Hint they are
nlrcnd.i milked by electricity, the milk
ilself must yet be constructed by the
All this was lost upon Florence.
She sat upon th" fence, her gaze un
favorably, though wistfully, fixed upon
a sign of no special esthetic merit
above tlie stable door:
THK NORTH I0NI) DAIRY ORIOLE.
ATWATER & HOOTER OWNERS AND
SUBSCRIBE NOW Si CENTS.
The Inconsistency of the word
"dally" did not trouble Florence ; more
over she hud found no fault with
"Oriole" until the "Owners and I'ro
preltors" had explained to her In the
plainest terms known to their vocabu
laries that she was excluded from the
enterprise. Then, Indeed, she had
been reciprocally explicit In regard,
not only to them und certain personal
characteristics of theirs which she
pointed out as fundamental, but In re
gard to any newspaper which should
deliberately call itself an "Oriole."
The partners remained sui>erlor In
manner, though unable to conceal a
natural resentment; they hud adopted
"Oriole," not out of sentiment for the
distant city of Baltimore, nor. Indeed,
fini account of any ornithologie Inter
est of ttieir own, but ns u relic from
an abandoned club, or secret society,
which they bad previously contem
plated forming. Its members to be
called "The Orioles" for no reason
whatever. The two friends hud
talked of their plan at many meetings
throughout the summer, und when Uer
IxTt's great-uncle, Mr. Joseph At
wnter, made his nephew the unex
pected present of a printing press, and
a newspujier consequently toolt the
place of the club, Herbert and Henry
still entertained an affection for their
former scheme and decided to perpet
uate the name. They were the more
sensitive to uttack upon It by an Ig
norant outsider and girl like Florence,
and her chance of Ingratiating her
self with them, If that could be now
her Intention, was not promising.
It would be Inaccurate to si>enk of
her as hoping to placate them, how
ever; her mood was Inscrutable. She
descended from the fence with pro
nounced Inelegance, and, approaching
the old double doors of the "carriage
house,'' which were open, paused to
listen. Sounds from above assured
her that the editors were editing—or
at least that they could be found at
their place of business. Therefore,
she a scende d the cobwebby stai rway
loft, and" made In 1
>ea 1 Tice
printing room of th
>ert. frowning with
îposition, snt at n
■ 1 eyond
icinl railing, and his
'd at the press, pnli
î fill 1;
Tin's latter person.
M ' ; '' [
"Here! Didn't I and Herbert Tell
You to Keep Out o' Here?"
euce for several months had named
not once otherwise than as "That
nasty little Henry Rooter," was of
strangely clean tyul smooth fair-hulred
nppenranco, frir his age. She looked
Ills profile was of a symmetry he
had not himself yet begun to appre
ciate ; his dress was scrupulous nnd
modish ; nnd though he was short
nothing outward about him explained
the more sinister of Florence's tw#
adjectives. Yet she had true occasion
for It, because on the clay before she
began Its long observance he had made
her uneasy lest an orange seed she
had swallowed Should rnko root nnd
grow up within her to 11 size Inevl- 1
tahly fatal. Then, with her cousin
Herbert's stern assistance, Florence ;
had realized that her gullibility was 1
not to be expected In anybody over
seven years old, after which age such j
legends are supposed to be encoun- 1
tend with the derision of experienced
Her fastidiousness aroused, she de
elded that Henry Rooter bail no busi
ness to lie talking about what would
happen to her insides, anyhow; and so
Informed him at their next meeting,
adding an explanation which al solute*
I.' proved him to be no gentleman.
And her opinion of him was -still per
fectly plain In her expression as she
made her present lnt.ru-ion upon Ills
working hours. He seemed to re
"Here! Didn't I «nil Herbert tell
you to keep out o' here?" lie demand
ed, even before Florence bud devel
oped the slightest form of greeting.
"Look at her, Herbert I She's buck
"You get out o' here, Florence,"
said Herbert, abandoning Ids task
with 11 look of pain. "I low often we
haf to tell you we don't want you
around here when we're I11 our office
"For heaven's sake!" Henry Rooter
thought lit to add. "Can't you quit
running up nnd down our office stairs
once lu a while, long enough for us to
get our newspaper work done? Can't
you give 11s a little peace?"
The plnklness of Florence's alter
ing complexion was Justified; she bad
not been near their old office for four
dnys. She stated the fact with bent,
adding; "And I only came then be
cause I knew somebody ought to see
that this stable Isn't ruined. It's my
own uncle and mint's stable, and I
got as much right here as anybody."
"You have not!" Henry Rooter pro
tested hotly. "This Isn't, either, your
ole aunt and uncle's stable."
"No, it Is not! Tills Isn't anybody's
stable. It's my and Herbert's news
paper building, and I guess you
haven't got the face to stand there
and claim you got a right to go In a
newspaper building nnd say you got
a right there when everybody tells
you to stay outside of It, I guess !"
"Oh, haven't I?"
"No, you haven't— I!" Mr. Rooter
maintained bitterly. "You Just walk
downtown and go In one of the news
paper buildings down there am! tell
'em you got a right to stay there all
day long when they tell you to get out
o' there! Just try It! That's all I
Continued Next Friday
\Y>th uli the plethora of books t*
choose from, It Is doubtful If peo
ple now read uny better books than
their grandfathers and grandmothers
Pick Out a Bssch Tree.
When in full foliage the beech trea
Is remarkable for its close shade and
coolness. The 'branches and such parts
of the tree 11s cannot be more usefully
••mployed moke capital firewood.
Bring your n«xt order of M
Printing to this office. We do SAtl^
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