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Show PRUDENCE ms 50 M LARK DECIDES TO EMBARK UPON LITERARY CAREER, DREAM OF HER LIFE, BUT FINDS NEWSPAPER NEWS-PAPER WORK TOO ARDUOUS Synopsis. The story opens in the house of Rev. Mr. Starr, where Prudence, his eldest daughter and feminine head of the house, consisting con-sisting of her father, herself, her sisters, Fairy, the twins Carol and Lark and Connie, the youngest, are awaiting the arrival of their aunt Grace. Liveliness of the smaller members of the family results disastrously dis-astrously for their appearance. Carol and Lark investigate Christian Science. Prudence postpones her wedding when Carol catches measles. Then Carol tries to convert the town roughnecks'. The twins score a triumph at the church entertainment. Fairy reveals her marriage engagement. CHAPTER VII. Lark's Literary Venture. As commencement drew near, and Fairy began planning momentous things for her graduation, a little soberness came into the parsonage 'life. The girls were certainly growing grow-ing up. Prudence had been married a long, long time. Fairy was being graduated grad-uated from college, her school days were over, and life was just across the threshold its big black door just slightly ajar waiting for her to press it back and catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. Even the twins were getting along. They were finishing high school, and beginning to prate of college and such things, but the twins were still, well, they were growing up, perhaps, but they kept jubilantly young along in the process, and their enthusiasm for diplomas and ice cream sodas was so nearly identical that one couldn't feel seriously that the twins were tugging at their leashes. And Connie was a freshman herself rather tall, a little awkward, with a sober earnest face, and with an incon-grously incon-grously humorous droop to the corners of her lips, and in the sparkle of her eyes. Mr. Starr looked at them and sighed. "I tell you, Grace, it's a thankless job, rearing a family. Connie told me today to-day that my collars should have straight edges now instead of turned-back turned-back corners. And Lark reminded me that I got my points mixed up in last Sunday's lesson. I'm getting sick of this family business, I'm about ready to" And just then, as a clear "Father" .came floating down the stairway, he turned his head alertly. "What do you want?" "Everybody's out," came Carol's plaintive voice. "Will you come and button me up. I can't ask auntie to run clear up here, and I can't come down because I'm in my stocking feet. My new slippers pinch so I don't put them on until I have to. Oh, thanks, father, you're a dear." After the excitement of the commencement, com-mencement, thi commotion, the glamour, glam-our, the gayety, ordinary parsonage life seemed smooth and pleasant, and for ten days there was not a ruffle on. the surface of their do' .i-stic waters. It was on the tenth day that the twins, strolling down Main street, conversing earnestly together as was their custom, cus-tom, were accosted by a nicely rounded, round-ed, pompous man with a cordial, "Hello, twins." In an instant they were bright with smiles, for this was Mr. Raider, editor and owner of the Dally News, the biggest big-gest and most popular of Mount Mark's three daily papers. Looking forward, as they did, to a literary career for Lark, they never failed to show a touching and unnatural deference to anyone connected, even ever so remotely, re-motely, with that profession. They did not resent his nicely rounded and therefore pointless jokes. They smiled at them. They did not call the Daily News the "Raider Family Fam-ily Organ," as they yearned to do. They did not admit that they urged their father fa-ther to put Mr. Raider on all church committees to insure publicity. They swallowed hard, and told themselves that, after all, Mr. Raider was an editor, edi-tor, and perhaps he couldn't help editing edit-ing his own family to the exclusion of the rest of Mount Mark. When, on this occasion, he looked Lark up and down with his usual rotund ro-tund complacency, Carol only gritted her teeth and reminded her heaving soul that he was an editor. "What are you going to do this sum-mur, sum-mur, Lark?" he asked, without preamble. pre-amble. "Why just nothing. I suppose. As usual." "Weil." he said, frowning plumply, "we're running short of men. I've heard you're interested in our line, and I thought maybe you could help us out during vacation. How about it? The work'Il be easy and it'll be fine experience experi-ence for you. We'll pay you five dollars dol-lars a week. This is a little town, and we're called a little publication, but our work and our aim and methods are identical with those of the big city papers." pa-pers." ne swelled visibly, almost alarmingly. "How about it? You're the -rae with the literary longings, aren't you?" Lark was utterly speechless. If the National bank had opened its coffers to the always hard-pressed twins, she could not have been mere completely confounded. Carol was in a condition nearly as serious, but grasping the gravity of the situation, she rushed into the breach headlong. "Yes yes," she gasped. "She's literary. lit-erary. Oh, she's very literary." Mr. Raider smiled. "Well, would you like to try your hand out with me?" Again Carol sprang to her sister's relief. "Yes, indeed, she would," she cried. "Yes, indeed." And then, determined to impress npon him that the Daily News was the one to profit chiefly from the innovation, she added, "And it's a lucky day for the Daily News, too, I tell you. There aren't many Larks in Mount Mark, in a literary way, I mean, and the Datfy. News needs some that is, I think new blood anyhow, Lark will be just fine." "All right. Come in, Monday morning morn-ing at eight, Lark, and I'll set you to work. It won't be anything very important. im-portant. You can write up the church news, and parties, and goings away, and things like that. It'll be good training. You can study our papers between now and then, to catch our style." Carol lifted her head a little higher. If Mr. Raider thought her talented twin would be confined to the ordinary style of the Daily News, which Carol considered consid-ered atrociously lacking in any style at all, he would be most gloriously mistaken, mis-taken, that's certain ! It Is a significant fact that after Mr. Raider went back into the sanctum of the Dally News, the twins walked along for one full block without speaking. speak-ing. Such a thing had never happened hap-pened before in all the years of their twinship. At the end of the block, Carol turned her head restlessly. They were eight blocks from home. But the twins couldn't run on the street, it was so undignified. She looked longingly about for a buggy bound their way. Even a grocery cart would have been a welome though humbling conveyance. "Lark," she said, "I'm afraid we'll be late for dinner. And auntie told us to hurry back. Maybe we'd better run." Running is a good expression for emotion, and Lark promptly struck out at a pace that did full credit to her lithe young limbs. Down the street they raced, little tendrils of hair flying about their flushefl and shining faces, faster, faster, breathless, panting, their gladness fairly overflowing. And many people turned to look, wondering what in the world possessed the leisurely, dignified parsonage twins. Aunt Grace sat up in her hammock to look, Fairy ran out to the porch, and Mr. Starr laid down his book. Had the long and dearly desired war been declared de-clared at last? But when the twins reached the porch, they paused sheepishly, shyly. "What's the matter?" chorused the family. "Are are we late for dinner?" Carol demanded earnestly, as though their lives depended on the answer. The family stared in concerted amusement. When before this had the twins shown anxiety about their lateness late-ness for meals unless a favorite dessert des-sert or salad was all consumed in their absence. And it was only half past four ! Carol gently shoved Connie off the cushion upon which she had dropped, and arranged it tenderly in a chair. "Sit down and rest, Larkie," she said in a soft and loving voice. "Are you nearly tired to death?" Lark sank, panting, into the cliair, and gazed about the circle with brilliant bril-liant eyes. "Get her a drink, can't you, Connie?" Con-nie?" said Carol indignantly. "Can't you see the poor thing is just tired to death? She ran the whole way home !" "What in the world?" began their father curiously. "11 a A a sunstroke?" queried Fairy, smiling. "You're both crazy," declared Connie, Con-nie, coming back with the water. "You're trying to fool ns. I won't ask any questions. Yon don't catch me thJs time." "Why don't yon Lie down and let Lark use you for a footstool, Carol?" suggested their father, with twinkling eyes. "I would, if she wanted a footstool," said Carol positively. "I'd love to do it. I'd he proud to do it I'd consider it an honor." j Lark blushed and lowered her eyes modestly. "What happened?" urged their father, fa-ther, still more curiously. "Did she get you out of a scrape?" mocked Fairy. "Tell it, Lark." Carol's voice was so intense that it impressed even skeptical skep-tical Connie and derisive Fairy. Lark raised the glowing eyes once more, leaned forward and said thrill-ingly thrill-ingly : "It's the literary career." The silence that followed this bold announcement was sufficiently dramatic dra-matic to satisfy even Carol, and she patted Lark's knee approvingly. "Well, go on," urged Connie, at last, when the twins continued silent. "That's all." "She's going to run the Daily News." "Oh, I'll only be a cub reporter; I guess that's what you call them." "Reporter nothing," contradicted Carol. ."There's nothing literary about that. You must take the whole paper in hand, and color it up a bit. And for goodness' sake, polish up Mr. Raider's editorials. I could write editorials like his myself." Fairy solemnly rose and crossed the porch, and with a hand on Lark's shoulder gave her a solemn shake. "Now, Lark Starr, you begin at the beginning be-ginning and tell us. Do you think we're all wooden Indians? We can't wait until un-til you make a newspaper out of the Daily News ! We want to know. Talk." Thus adjured, Lark did talk, and the little story with many striking embellishments embel-lishments from Carol was given into the hearing of the family. "Five dollars a week," echoed Connie Con-nie faintly. "Of course, I'll divide that with Carol," was the generous offer. "No, I won't have it. I haven't any literary brains, and I can't take any of your salary. Thanks, just the same." Then she added happily : "But I know you'll be very generous when' I need to borrow, and I do borrow pretty often, Larkie." For the rest of the week Lark's literary lit-erary career was the one topic of conversation con-versation in the Starr family. Lark's clothes were put in the most immaculate immacu-late condition, and her wardrobe greatly great-ly enriched by donations pressed upon her by her admiring sisters. Every evening the younger girls watched impatiently im-patiently for the carrier of the Daily News, and then rushed to meet him. She Sulked Grouchily In the Dining Room. The paper was read with avid interest, criticized, commended. They all admitted ad-mitted that Lark would be an acquisition acquisi-tion to the editorial force, indeed, one sorely needed. During those days, Carol followed Lark about with a hungry devotion that would have been observed by her sister on a less momentous occasion. But now she was so full of the darling career that she overlooked the once most-darling Carol. On Monday morning, morn-ing, Carol did not remain upstairs with Lark as she donned her most businesslike business-like dress for her initiation into the world of literature. Instead, she sulked grouchily in the dining room, and when Lark, radiant, star-eyed, danced into the room for the family's approval, she almost glowered upon her. "Am I all right? Do I look literary? Oh, oh," gurgled Lark, with music in her voice. Carol sniffed. "Oh, isn't It a glorious morning?" sang Lark again. "Isn't everything wonderful, father?" "Lark Starr," cried Carol passionately, passionate-ly, "I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. It's bad enough to turn your back on your your lifelong twin, and raise barriers between us, but for you to be so wildly happy about it is perfectly per-fectly wicked." Lark wheeled about abruptly and stared at her sister, the fire slowly dying out of her eyes. "Why, Carol," she began slowly, in a low voice, without music. "Oh, that's all right. You needn't try to talk me over. A body'd think-there think-there was nothing in the world but ugly old newspapers. I don't like 'em, anyhow. I think they're downright nosey! And we'll never be the same any more, Larkie, and you're the only twin I've got, and " Carol's defiance ended In a poorly suppressed sob and a rush of tears. Lark threw her gloves on the table. "1 won't go at ill," she said. "I won't go a step. If tf you think for a minute, Carol, ihnt any silly old career is going to e any dearer to me than you are, and f we aren't going to be just as we've a?ways been, I won't go a step." Carol wiped her eyes. "Well," she paid very affectionately, "if you feel like that, it's all right. I just wanted you to say yon liked me better than anything else. Of course you must go, Lark. I really take all tlie credit for you and your talent to myself, and it's as much an honor for me as it is for you, and I want you to go. But don't you ever go to liking the crazy old stories any better than you do me." Then she picked up Lark's gloves, and the two went out with an arm around each other's waist. It was a dreary morning for Carol, but none of her sisters knew that most of it was spent in the closet of her room, sobbing bitterly. "It's just the way of the world," she mourned, in the tone of one who has lived many years and suffered untold anguish, "we spend our lives bringing them up, and loving them, and finding all our joy and happiness hap-piness in them, and then they go, and we are left alone." Lark's morning at the office was quiet, but none the less thrilling on that account. Mr. Raider received her cordially, and with a great deal of unctuous fatherly advice. He took her into his office, which was one corner of the press room glassed in by itself, and talked over her duties, which, ns far as Lark could gather from his discourse, appeared to consist in doing as she was told. "Now, remember," he said, in part, "that running a newspaper is business. busi-ness. Pure business. We've got to give folks what they want to hear, and they want to hear everything that happens. hap-pens. Folks want to hear about the private affairs of other folks. They pay us to find out, and tell them, and it's our duty to do it. So don't ever be squeamish about coming right out blunt with the plain facts; that's what we are paid for." This did not seriously impress Lark. Theoretically, she realized that he was right. And he talked so impressively of the press, and its mission in' the world, and its rights and its pride and its power, that Lark, looking away with hope-filled eyes, saw a high and mighty figure, immense, all-powerful, standing free, majestic, beckoning her to come. It was her first view of the world's press. But on the fourth morning, when she entered the office, Mr. Raider met her with more excitement in his manner than she" had ever seen before. As a rule, excitement does not sit well on nicely rounded, pink-skinned men. "Lark," he began hurriedly, "do you know the Dalys? On Elm street?" "Yes, they are members of our church. I know them." He leaned forward. "Big piece of news down that way. This morning at breakfast, Daly shot his daughter Maisie and the little boy. They are both dead. Daly got away, and we can't get at the bottom of it. The family is shut off alone, and won't see anyone." Lark's face had gone white, and she clasped her slender hands together, swaying, quivering, bright lights before be-fore her eyes. "Oh, oh !" she murmured brokenly. "Oh, how awful !" Mr. Raider did not observe the white horror in Lark's face. "Yes, isn't It?" he said. "I want you to go right down there." "Yes, indeed," said Lark, though she shivered at the thought. "Of course, I will." Lark was a minister's daughter. daugh-ter. If people were in trouble, she must go, of course. "Isn't it awful? I never knew of such a thing before. Maisie was In my class at school. I never liked her very well. I'm so sorry I didn't oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, I'll go right away. You'd better call papa up and tell him to come, too." "I will, but you run along. Being the minister's daughter, they'll let you right up. They'll tell you all about it, of course. Don't talk to anyone on the way back. Come right to the office." "Yes yes." Lark's face was frightened, fright-ened, but firm. "I I've never gone to the houses much when there was trouble. Prudence and Fairy have always al-ways done that. But of course it's right, and I'm going. Oh, I do wish I had been fonder of Maisie. I'll go right away." And she hurried away, still quivering, quiver-ing, a cold chili upon her. Three hours later she returned to the office, Iter eyes dark circled, and red with weeping. weep-ing. Mr. Raider met her at the door. "Did you see them?" "Yes," she sajd in a low voice. "They they took me upstairs, and " She paused pitifully, the memory strong upon her, for the woman, the mother of five children, two of whom had been struck down, had lain in Lark's strong tender arms, and sobbed out the ugly story. Would It have been honorable for Lark to write up the tragic story even though it was her Job to do so since the suffering mother had given the girl full confidence unwittingly? (TO BIS CONTINUKU) |