TODAY'S SHORT STORIES 
 ANALYZED 
 
 AN INFOKMAL ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SHORT 
 STORY ART AS EXEMPLIFIED IN CON- 
 TEMPORARY MAGAZINE FICTION— 
 FOR WRITERS AND STUDENTS 
 
 BY 
 ROBERT WILSON NEAL, A.M. 
 
 Author of " Short Stories in the Making," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 
 
 AMERICAN BRANCH: S5 West 32nd Strekt 
 LONDON. TORONTO, MELBOURNE, AND BOMBAY 
 
 1918
 
 COPYRIGHT 1918 
 
 BT THE 
 
 OXFORD UNIVEKSITY PRESS 
 American Branch
 
 TO MY SON
 
 ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 The publishers and the author of Today's Short Stories 
 Analyzed are indebted to the writers whose stories are 
 here reprinted, and to the editors and publishers of the 
 periodicals represented, for special permission to repro- 
 duce the stories, and for other courteous and cordial 
 co-operation. 
 
 CONCERNING COPYRIGHTS 
 
 The stories in this volume are reprinted by special per- 
 mission. Their authors and publishers reserve all rights 
 in and to them under their respective copyrights, other 
 than that of reprinting in this volume; and all rights 
 under the copyright of this volume are similarly reserved.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PASE 
 
 Introductory Notes 1 
 
 What the Vandals Leave, By Herbert Riley 
 
 Howe. (From "Life") 3 
 
 Introductory Notes 4 
 
 The Song. By C. Hilton-Turvey. (From "Life") 7 
 
 Introductory Notes 
 
 3. Anchors Aweigh. By Harriet Welles. (From 
 
 "Scribner's Magazine") .* . 
 
 Introductory Notes 
 
 4. Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence. By Anne 
 
 O'Hagan. (From "Smith's Magazine") 
 
 Introductory Notes 
 
 In the Matter of Distance. By John Barton 
 Oxford. (From "Red Book Magazine") 
 
 10 
 12 
 17 
 21 
 43 
 45 
 64 
 
 Introductory Notes 
 
 6. A Ragtime Lady. By Eugene Manlove Rhodes 
 
 and Laurence Yates. (From "The Satur- 
 day Evening Post") 67 
 
 Introductory Notes 99 
 
 7. The Unknown. By Albert Payson Terhune. 
 
 (From "Red Book Magazine") . . .102 
 
 Introductory Notes 132 
 
 8. The Love of Men. By Nevil G. Henshaw. 
 
 (From "Adventure") 136 
 
 Introductory Notes 158 
 
 9. Nerve. By William Slavins. (From "Collier's 
 
 Weekly") 16.0 
 
 vii
 
 viii Contents 
 
 PAOS 
 
 Introductory Notes 183 
 
 10. A QriKT Life or Life on the Quiet. By Her- 
 
 bert C. Test. (From "Collier's Weekly") 187 
 
 Introductory Notes 219 
 
 11. Little Sunbeam, By George Pattullo. (From 
 
 "Every Week" and "Associated Sunday 
 Magazines") 221 
 
 Introductory Notes 247 
 
 12. The Last Rose of Summer. By Rupert Hughes. 
 
 (From "The Metropolitan Magazine"; book 
 
 by Harper and Brothers) .... 251 
 
 Introdi^ctory Notes 289 
 
 13. His Bubble Reputation. By Capt. Brydges 
 
 Rodney, -U. S. A. (From "Adventure") . 291 
 
 Introductory Notes 318 
 
 14. An Epilogue. By Gertrude Hall. (From "The 
 
 Century Magazine") 324 
 
 Introductory Notes 379 
 
 15. The Defective. By Freeman Tilden (From 
 
 "The Smart Set") 381 
 
 Introductory Notes 407 
 
 16. That Hahxheimer Story. By Arthur James 
 
 Peglcr. (From "Adventure") . . .409 
 
 Introductory Notes 429 
 
 17. The Woman at Seven Brothers. By Wilbur 
 
 Daniel Steele. (From "Harper's Maga- 
 zine") 434 
 
 Introductory Notes 465 
 
 18. The Cat and the Fiddle. By Molly Elliott 
 
 Seawell. (From "Ainslee's Magazine") . 471 
 
 Introductory Notes 507 
 
 19. The Opal Morning. By Ethel Watts Mumford. 
 
 (From "McClure's Magazine") . . .510
 
 Contents ix 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Introductory Notes 536 
 
 20. The Great God. By Mary Heaton Vorse. 
 
 (From "The Woman's Home Companion") 540 
 
 Introductory Notes 561 
 
 21. Tropics. By Patrick Casey. (From " Adven- 
 
 ture") 565 
 
 Introductory Notes 614 
 
 22. Unto Each His Crown. By Norma Patterson. 
 
 (From "The Bookman") . . . .615
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 Today's Short Stories Analyzed is a companion volume 
 to Short Stories in the Making. It can, however, be 
 profitably studied without the latter, but not so profitably 
 as when accompanied by it. Together, the books provide 
 a summary of the essential theory of the short story as a 
 type of fiction, and a body of illustrative matter, care- 
 fully analyzed, wherein the student will find a plenitude 
 of instances of the specific adaptation and application of 
 the theory to productive purposes by writers of the day. 
 
 Each of the books has primarily in mind, without sacri- 
 ficing its usefulness as a handbook for the non-professional 
 literary student, nevertheless especially to meet the inter- 
 ests and serve the needs of the practicing writer and the 
 student who is preparing himself to write fiction, and ac- 
 cordingly each makes a professional approach to the sub- 
 ject in its entirety, and to the individual problems that it 
 includes. The volumes are, in short, practical handbooks 
 for writers, but of a sort to meet the requirements of the 
 serious non-professional student also. This treatment 
 from the angle of practical management and construction 
 probably accounts for the initial welcome given Short 
 Stories in the Making and the steady sale of that 
 treatise. 
 
 As the book just named has found acceptance among 
 those depended on in college courses in short-story writ- 
 ing, it will perhaps be well to emphasize the fact that 
 Today's Short Stories Analyzed is something more than 
 
 xi
 
 xii Foreword 
 
 a iiiore book of specimens, addendum, or supplementary 
 volume. It is in the fullest sense a compamon volume, 
 introducing new aspects and problems, and in many 
 things widening the scope of discussion and varying its 
 point of view. In but one thing is it subordinate to the 
 other volume; namely, in referring to it for the basic 
 discussion of general theory whereof applications are 
 under consideration in the second volume. Yet even so 
 the reference is usually made for the sake of extending 
 and generalizing the understanding of the subject that 
 the student gets from the specific instance before him in 
 the story. How far he will go in following up these ref- 
 erences in the other volume is a matter that he will deter- 
 mine for himself; he can pass over most of them and yet 
 get at least the immediate point of the analysis, or he 
 can turn to the treatise whenever he meets such a ref- 
 erence, and so acquire an intimate and masterly knowl- 
 edge of the theory in its entirety of fundamentals. 
 
 The arrangement of the notes in Today's Short Stones 
 Analyzed is such as readily to permit the study of the 
 volume according to individual as well as to class-room 
 requirements, and with varying degrees of intensive pur- 
 pose. The story can be read in connection merely with 
 the notes under the heading " The Story as a Whole," 
 which will provide sufficient comment for a general appre- 
 ciation of it as a literary specimen and in its most notable 
 aspects as a specimen of short-story management and 
 technique. Thus the general reader or student will be 
 able to possess himself readily of those critical literary or 
 structural facts of which he is in search. In this way 
 also the college class with but a limited time to spend can 
 achieve the general survey that is its object.
 
 Foreword xiii 
 
 If a more intensive study of structure, or characteriza- 
 tion, or plot, or atmosphere, or theme be desired, the 
 reader or the instructor has but to select from the running 
 notes those passages in which the matter he especially 
 wishes to study is discussed. And if he desire to pass 
 over no hint or explanation, he can take both the intro- 
 ductory and the running notes entire. With the employ- 
 ment of the same selective method in the choice and rejec- 
 tion of stories for study, the volume adapts itself with 
 extreme flexibility to the purposes of the instructor in the 
 class-room, the needs of the general literary student, 
 and the demands of writers who aim at the most 
 thorough professional grounding in technique and prac- 
 tique. 
 
 So much said concerning the book from the viewpoint 
 of utility and mechanical arrangement, something addi- 
 tional, a sort of caveat emptor, may be in place concern- 
 ing it from another angle. 
 
 I remember a call made on me at Amherst by Mr. 
 Arthur H. Gleason, in memory of a previous association 
 in the same magazine offices. He scanned my book-cases 
 from the chair, then got up and walked back and forth 
 past them, more and more intent on the titles. Suddenly 
 he burst out : 
 
 " What a remarkable collection. I never saw such a 
 miscellaneous, job-lot accumulation." 
 
 To which, reserving comment, I made what response I 
 could. 
 
 His remark, however, caused me no loss of faith in my 
 books ; through my acquaintance with them, I knew how 
 they fell into clear and natural divisions and represent the 
 definite interests and directions of approach through which
 
 XIV 
 
 Foreword 
 
 1 t'onned my view of life. For me, the collection lacked 
 neither unity nor coherence; for I knew what was beneath 
 and Ix^hind it. 
 
 About Today's Short Stories Analyzed I can imagine a 
 critic of set preconceptions making a comment as embar- 
 rassing as that of my friend about my books. Which is as 
 it should be, for he must measure by the rule that he owns, 
 and it is one that, employed where it is in place, gives 
 accurate results. Yet I would point out that there are 
 measurements and computations more accurately accom- 
 plished with a slide-rule than with a knotted string — that 
 eggs can be weighed as well as counted — that land sells 
 by the acre but oil of peppermint by the fluid ounce. He 
 who dislikes the analytical plan adopted here, or has com- 
 plaint to make because the stories have not been chosen 
 by some more set and obvious principle nor sorted and 
 classified methodically and mechanically as he would sort 
 and classify them, need not linger with the volume. There 
 are, I understand, many books in the world. 
 
 Let us, however, grow to a point. 
 
 Today's Short Stories Analyzed is not an anthology ; it 
 is scarcely a collection. It did not set out to be. A\Tiat 
 it set out to be, and what it is, is not a literary anthology, 
 not a collection for reading in order to the forming of an 
 estimate concerning the qualities and characteristics, the 
 merits and lack of merit, the course and tendencies, of 
 contemporary short fiction. That, one can find in books 
 of the aim and excellence of Mr. Edward O'Brien's an- 
 nual gatherings in The Booh of the Short Story. 
 
 Today's Short Stories Analyzed is in truth not a read- 
 ing volume at all. Neither is it primarily an attempt at 
 direct criticism, even in the selection of its stories. It is
 
 FOREWOED XV 
 
 only a volume in which twenty-odd narratives from con- 
 temporary magazines are reprinted for the sake of some- 
 thing in them that may be helpfully suggestive to the stu- 
 dent of short-story technique. It is a study manual, and 
 only that. 
 
 Its stories have not even been gathered by systematic 
 search; they have been picked up along the way by an 
 errant reader who merely was keeping his eyes open for 
 obvious illustrations of fictional ways, means, and methods 
 — illustrations suitable for examination by persons seek- 
 ing an intimate and detailed acquaintance with the many- 
 purposed, specific applications of those theories and prin- 
 ciples of technique and management which are represented 
 in but general — and often dogmatic — form by the treatises 
 on the art of story-writing. 
 
 In brief, the book set out to be that which its publishers, 
 in the subtitle they have given it, describe it as being: 
 " an informal encyclopedia of short-story art." To be 
 that, it needed less to bother itself with the pros and cons 
 concerning ultimate worth than to make certain of direct 
 utility in its materials as obvious illustrations of the prac- 
 tical application of method to the problems presented by 
 narrational drama. 
 
 Hence, should any critic concede that upon analysis 
 some story or another discloses merits and excellence not 
 before perceived by him, I should respond only so far as 
 to ask wherein is reason for sui'prise at that, since appre- 
 ciation is not born except of knowledge ? Further than 
 this, the discussion would be irrelevant and unprofitable; 
 the sole purpose of these studies is to observe the means 
 employed in actual practice by magazine writers of the 
 day to place their fiction conceptions before the reader
 
 xvi Poke WORD 
 
 elTi'i'tivcly, both in llu' whulc autl in the parts and details 
 that make up the wliuk'. 
 
 After the forepiing explanation, I need not give, except 
 to tyros, a warning against fancying that an adequate 
 estimate of the merits of an individual author can be 
 based on any such tiny amount of his work as is repre- 
 sented by a single story. To attempt it would be thor- 
 oughly unjust. By itself, neither Esmond, nor Vanity 
 Fair, nor TJic Newcomcs, represents Thackeray; we 
 should know Dickens but fragnientarily if we knew him 
 only in 7\co Cities, or Chuzzlewit, or Oliver Twist, and 
 but partly even in the three of them together. How im- 
 possible therefore to know the scope and quality and 
 variety of a writer from some single conte, chosen arbi- 
 trarily by a chance analyst who wishes to deal, not with 
 the final standards of art, but only with instances of 
 artisanry and technique, and with these for but a didactic 
 purpose. 
 
 Yet though the book is not a reading-volume, and though 
 it is not in any sense an undertaking of direct literary 
 or esthetic criticism, nevertheless there is significance in 
 the title-phrase, " today's short stories." Every conte re- 
 printed in the volume has appeared in a magazine of a 
 date comparatively recent. Each story has therefore suc- 
 cessfully passed the scrutiny of an editor of the day, and 
 been marked with the sign of suitability for contemporary 
 publication in the magazine he edits. Inadequate as must 
 be any mere score of stories out of the hundreds appearing 
 in our magazines to represent w^ith completeness the range 
 and character of short fiction for a single twelvemonth — 
 even should selection aim solely at the presentation of 
 types — ^yet on the other hand it is inevitable that such a
 
 Foreword xvii 
 
 group shall broadly suggest what classes and kinds of 
 story find favor with editors and readers of the period. 
 When the writer of short stories has read the specimens 
 brought together by Mr. O'Brien in The Booh of the 
 Short Story, he finds himself possessed of a clearer and 
 more definite realization of certain subjects, themes, man- 
 ners, and presentation-methods that have found a market 
 and a public when incorporated in tales. In a gathering 
 which, through a difference in purpose, is, like Today's 
 Short Stories Analyzed, able to be yet more catholic and 
 miscellaneous in its selections, the indication of the kinds 
 and character of story that people market and read today 
 should prove correspondingly broader in its range and 
 utility. 
 
 There may be also, I fancy, further significance tacit in 
 the phrase " today's stories." I have said that the contes 
 reprinted in Today's Short Stories Analyzed have been 
 picked by chance, with a view primarily to indicating the 
 way in which their writers employ and adapt the basic 
 principles of short-story fiction in the presentation, the 
 utterance or " outering," of their narrative-dramatic con- 
 ceptions. That is true, but it is perhaps not quite the 
 whole truth. I have throughout been subconsciously 
 guided by my own feeling of what the short fiction of 
 our day is. 
 
 I have the further feeling that this subconscious test 
 has worked by way of exclusion, not of inclusion — that 
 had a situation definitely arisen in which a choice was 
 necessary between a conte of higher absolute literary 
 quality but notwithstanding its excellence more repre- 
 sentative of the characteristic short fiction of yesterday 
 than of today, and on the other hand a conte less worthy
 
 xviii Foreword 
 
 but more representative of current short fiction, the latter 
 specimen would have been preferred. 
 
 Ko such definite situation did arise, — but if a justifica- 
 tion of the principle of choice just mentioned seem de- 
 sirable, it is to be found in the purpose of this book; 
 namely, to show forth the applications of technique made 
 in the representative short fiction appearing in magazines 
 of the day. There are plenty of collections in which the 
 work of past generations can be studied — studied with 
 extreme profit — but students who would acquaint them- 
 selves with the practice and technique of today's short 
 stories have mainly to shift for themselves. Good, bad, 
 and indifferent, our periodical fiction is read, but seldom 
 studied. Small wonder that the sweeping condemnations 
 of it, and the less frequent outbursts in its praise, may 
 alike prove ill founded. Especially unjust and ignorant 
 are those judgments which measure it by the outward 
 forms and methods, not of its own day, but of a genera- 
 tion already past, if not remotely past. That its spirit 
 cannot be appraised unless its forms and methods be ap- 
 preciated, should be evident to the most casual 
 student. 
 
 But to argue upon either side the assertion that the 
 magazine short fiction of today is inferior or superior to 
 that of the past — ^whether in its outstanding stories or in 
 its general mass — is aside from the purpose of this book. 
 The contes of the day are, therefore they deserve apprecia- 
 tion ; and before appreciation must come study. Never- 
 theless I must give myself the pleasure of quoting an 
 editor whose position has brought him acquaintance not 
 only with the day's short stories that appear in print, but 
 with those also that, for whatever reason, fail in the lit-
 
 FORKWORD xix 
 
 erary struggle for existence — Mr. Robert Rudd Whiting 
 of " Ainslee's Magazine." He writes : 
 
 "... about changes in the technique of the present- 
 day short story. Writers who send us work regularly and 
 fail to meet our present standards were contributors a 
 few years ago to the best magazines in this country. For 
 a time I took it for granted that their work had fallen 
 off; but in looking back in old files of those magazines 
 and reading their work of that day, I found that we now 
 demand sharper, crisper work than we did then. There 
 really is a change, and it is not the writers who have gone 
 back." 
 
 In an informal gathering of scientists where chance 
 good fortune had made me a listener, a prominent chemist 
 remarked that any man who failed to keep himself in- 
 timately informed in the current " submerged literature " 
 of his subject — its documents, reports, bulletins and arti- 
 cles up to the hour — was a back number. Unsupplemented 
 with knowledge of the succeeding researches and the new 
 methods that these require, the authorities of five years 
 ago are doubtful, those of ten years ago unsafe or unsound. 
 His assertion was accepted as essentially true. 
 
 If a similar assertion concerning short fiction cannot be 
 made so absolutely, it can yet be made ; and as it is today's 
 chemistry, and not yesterday's, by which today is served 
 and tomorrow prepared for, so it is today's short stories, 
 not yesterday's, that today reads and out of which will be 
 developed the writers and the short-story literature of 
 tomorrow. 
 
 For this reason, Today's Short Stories Analyzed ends 
 as it began — with the purpose of showing forth specific 
 employments, applications, and adaptations of the art of
 
 XX Foreword 
 
 the c'onto, but of sbowinc; them forth in stories that un- 
 mistakablv belong to the magazine short fiction of the day. 
 However well or ill they represent it in its entirety, or 
 whether, except indeed as they are of its mass, they rep- 
 resent it at all, is an irrelevant matter. The material fact 
 is, that in them the basic theory and technique of the 
 conte can be found exemplified, and that they are clearly 
 stories of today. 
 
 TO STUDENTS 
 
 By all means read the story itself attentively and ap- 
 preciatively before reading any of the notes. Otherwise 
 you will miss the quality and effect of the story itself — 
 missing w^hich, you must miss everything else. Leave the 
 
 notes for following study. In the notes, " S. S. M." 
 
 stands for Short Stories in the Making, and the " Introd. 
 Notes " are the notes at the head of the story under 
 " The Story as a Whole."
 
 WHAT THE VANDALS LEAVE 
 
 The Stoky as a Whole 
 
 1. " What the Vandals Leave " lacks the length and am- 
 plified volume to be found in a conte, yet lacks only these 
 to constitute an excellent specimen of the type. Its 
 effectiveness is manifest. It is a condensed action-plot or 
 quasi-scenario dramatically narrated. S. S. M. 9 : 3, c. e; 
 75 : 7, C, D. 
 
 2. Though in its brevity (but not so in having a plot) 
 it is an incident, it otherwise affords a compact illustra- 
 tion of practically all the characteristics of the short 
 story. Here we find, for instance, the plot elements in 
 full. Par. 1 contains the exposition ; par. 2, the generat- 
 ing circumstance; pars. 2-6, the rising action; pars. 6-7, 
 the climactic height; par. 7, the climactic situation and 
 conclusive ending. See S. S. M. 71-121 passim, and 
 specifically 74:6; 79:1; 85:1-3; 92:1-3; 94:5-13; 
 115 : 1-4. 
 
 3. Here also we find clearly exemplified the tendency 
 of the conte to develop solely the climactic plot situation, 
 with all preliminary matter reduced to a minimum. 
 S. S. M. 15 : 1-5. 
 
 4. Likewise, strength and singleness of impression are 
 manifest. S. S. M. 19 : 1-3. 
 
 5. Further, it is a drama in narrative. S. S. M. 
 10 : 1-7. 
 
 6. Though reduced to their lowest terms, theme, action, 
 
 1
 
 2 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 atmosphere, and character are present as in the longer 
 short story. S. S. M., 24 : 1-5. 
 
 7. In a general summary of the literary and technical 
 elements present in the little dramatic narrative, its power 
 to interpret life, history, and the value and effect of 
 national ideals must not be overlooked. In brief, it is a 
 short story in miniature, and should be studied as such. 
 See also the comment on " The Song."
 
 WHAT THE VANDALS LEAVE 
 
 By Heebert Riley Howe 
 
 Reprinted by Permission from " Life," September 9, 1915. 
 (Copyrighted by Life Publishing Company, 1915) 
 
 1. The war was over, and he was back in his native 
 city that had been retaken from the Vandals. He was 
 walking rapidly through a dimly-lit quarter. 
 
 2. A woman touched his arm and accosted him in 
 fuddled accents. 
 
 3. " Where are you going, M'sieu ? With me, hein ? " 
 
 4. He laughed. " ISTo, not with you, old girl. I'm 
 going to find my sweetheart." 
 
 5. He looked down at her. 
 
 6. They were near a street-lamp. She screamed. He 
 seized her by the shoulders and dragged her closer to the 
 light. His fingers dug her flesh, and his eyes gleamed. 
 
 7. " Joan ! " he gasped.
 
 THE SONG 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. This story is notable for its extreme compactness 
 and brevity, and for its effective miDgling of theme, 
 plot, atmosphere, and character (S. S. M. 54:1). Not- 
 withstanding its brevity (about 700 words), all these ele- 
 ments appear in satisfying proportion. Character is 
 least prominent, the central person being a type figure — 
 an ordinary laboring-class man, representing here the 
 body of common-people, in democracies — on the "whole 
 rather indifferent to or ignorant of the fundamental sig- 
 nificance of events that do not immediately touch their 
 personal concerns. His foil is the German thrush- 
 shooter, typifying the same class among the Germans. 
 
 2. The story is emphatically a purpose story. It is 
 written to make the reader realize the fundamental issue 
 of the present great struggle — the spirit of humani- 
 tarianism that produces the individual and national point- 
 of-view of men living in democracies, against the spirit of 
 inhumane and cruel hardness, seen in individual and in 
 social character, that is the product of autocracy as devel- 
 oped in its modern guise and exemplified in Germany 
 under Prussian domination. On the technical questions, 
 see S. S. M. 26 : 36 ; cf. especially 27 : 4-8. (On the plot- 
 and impression-value of the bird-shooting incident, cf. 
 S. S. M. 101:20-21.) 
 
 3. The story affords an excellent illustration of the 
 
 4
 
 The Song 5 
 
 power of literature to interpret life. Seven hundred words 
 explain to us the personal, social, and spiritual effects of 
 two opposed philosophies of life as seen in current history. 
 See S. S. M. 1: 1-11; note (for technical study) the con- 
 crete details employed, and their adequate embodiment of 
 the ultimate truths presented (e. g., the " efficiency " of 
 the German rifleman). 
 
 4. The plot organization is worth observing, owing to 
 the brevity of the narrative. First note that the theme is 
 revealed to us through a carefully calculated means — by 
 revealing how Private Drake came to appreciate what he 
 was fighting for. ISText note that this story conforms 
 pretty closely to the type described in S. S. M. 17 : 5, 
 sents. 1-2 (cf. also 16:1-4). Third, note that the strug- 
 gle is mental — between Drake's ignorant indifference and 
 selfishness and his sense of a great ideal at stake. The 
 plot organization is this (cf. S. S. M. 71-75) : 
 
 Par. 1. Exposition; central person and his indif- 
 
 erence. 
 
 2. Generating circumstance — Drake's suffer- 
 
 ing, causing him to ask. Why? Rising 
 action begins. Motivation of his later 
 understanding by indicating his hunger 
 for the gentler aspects of life, represent- 
 ing democratic England. 
 
 3. Beginning of the critical situation; prepa- 
 
 ration for decisive moment. 
 5. Final preparation of decisive incident — 
 
 the song. (Pars. 6-7 intensify and in- 
 crease suspense.)
 
 6 Tooay's Siioirr Stories Analyzed 
 
 8-10. Decisive moment. (Xote the difference in 
 point-of-view between the two side?.) 
 11-14. Falling- action, telescoped with grand cli- 
 max and outcome (S. S. M. 75: C-D). 
 
 5. Cf. further S. S. M. 168:25-27; 13:1, 14:5 
 15:1-3; 21:3; 44:2; 57:6; 63:14; 85:1-3; 94:6 
 96:11;100:19; 115:1; 122:1; 127: 9 ;132 : 16; 154:7 
 168:26; 179 : 3;180 : 4-5 ; 184: 10; 196: 13-14; 191:5-6 
 195:11; 225:13; 228:15; 250: last par. to bottom of 
 251 ; 256: last par.; 257: pars. 1 and 3. This story is in 
 many respects an unusually good example of the modern 
 prose conte in its essential form. Therefore the student 
 is recommended to review the passages here cited in 
 S. S. M., and in general the leading principles of the short 
 story as a type.
 
 THE SONG 
 By C. Hilton-Tuevey 
 
 Keprinted by Permission from " Life," March 30, 1916. 
 (Copyrighted by Life Publishing Company, 1916) 
 
 1. Tim Drake was no swashbuckler. He joined the 
 colors simply as a business proposition. He had been out 
 of work for months, and there was nothing in sight for 
 him. At the great camp on Salisbury Plain he drilled 
 as if it were part of a schoolboy lesson. Of the great 
 war — what it meant — the issues that underlay it — he 
 knew little and cared nothing. He heard a lot of talk 
 amongst his mates. But it brushed his consciousness as 
 the wing of a bird brushes the leaves in transit through 
 a tree. He never doubted that the German was a good 
 fellow. Fighting was a business with him, too. He 
 obeyed orders. If they were bad ones, so much the worse 
 for the ones who gave them. 
 
 2. His first bit in the trenches tried Tim. He came 
 out after fourteen hours under fire, white and shaken. 
 But that was only his body. Tim himself was not afraid. 
 He felt passive — a cog in a machine in which he had lit- 
 tle interest. But during the days and nights that ensued, 
 the horror seemed to work through into his very soul. 
 He would come staggering out of the trenches, dazed with 
 the vibrations of the guns, his spirit melting like water, 
 his courage at an ebb. He asked himself why he had 
 come into this hell. And there grew upon him such home- 
 
 7
 
 8 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 sickness — such longing to get back to England — that he 
 could have bawled like a kiddie to think of it! 
 
 3. One morning, just before the dawn, he shuffled 
 along with his company to relieve the trenches. He had 
 slept badly, dreaming of home, which meant to him old 
 grey London — the center of the web of the w'orld — and 
 the innocent, blossoming lanes and byways beyond the 
 clamor of her streets. 
 
 4. Overhead a streak of dawn, faint and ghostlike, 
 appeared. The lines were so close that he and his mates 
 could hear the Germans stirring and the indistinct rumble 
 of conversation. 
 
 5. The day broke in rose and gold. Soon the cool of 
 the morning would be gone. A lanky tree between the 
 lines still stood, half of its green branches shot away. As 
 they waited for the beginning of the long day's strain — 
 miracle of miracles! — a thrush lighted there on the scarred 
 tree and sang! 
 
 G. There was silence in the trenches — the silence that 
 is the greatest tribute the listener can bring to the artist, 
 be he bird or man. For a moment the soldiers laid down 
 their guns on the parapet, while their hearts beat with 
 the lovely music. 
 
 7. It was the last touch to Tim's homesickness. The 
 tears gushed out of his eyes. He put his head on his 
 arms and cried like a child, not caring who saw. It 
 brought back the birds that sang in the swaying hedges 
 by the road, out of London, on a Sunday. It drew his 
 homesick heart out of his body. 
 
 8. And now there was a stir in the German trenches — 
 some guttural laughter, as at a very good joke, then the 
 sharp bark of a rifle!
 
 The Song 9 
 
 9. The song ceased, as if a silver thread had broken. 
 Out of the stark tree fell a tiny bunch of brown feathers — • 
 a little limp body. 
 
 10. There was an audible gasp from the English lines. 
 
 11. The marksman, in the triumph of the moment, 
 carelessly exposed his head above the safety line. 
 
 12. An echo of his own shot rang out in deadly 
 repartee. 
 
 13. And back in the British trenches the man who had 
 wept at the song of the thrush grimly cut a notch in the 
 wood of his rifle, like the veriest savage exulting in the 
 death of his enemy. For him the incident was an epitome 
 of the great war. 
 
 14. Now at last, in a blaze of unquenchable rage, 
 Private Drake knew what he was fighting for!
 
 ANCHORS AWEIGH 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " Anchors Aweigh " is here introduced to illustrate 
 further the difference between the conte, strictly so called, 
 and some of the effective forms employing the same ele- 
 ments and kinds of material, hut not organizing them 
 according to the short-story requirements. " Anchors 
 Aweigh " should be studied first in comparison with 
 " What the Vandals Leave " and " The Song " (the refer- 
 ences contained in the notes on these two are those pri- 
 marily significant likewise with reference to " Anchors 
 Aweigh "). It can then be compared with " Miss Mitty 
 and the Ages Hence." 
 
 2. In making the comparison directed above, note that 
 we have here no plot, in the short-story sense, there being 
 no complication, and consequently no conflict or struggle 
 of the sort required by dramatic plot. There is mental 
 conflict, in the sense of mental disturbance or suffering; 
 but there is no struggle between opposing forces, and con- 
 sequently there is no crisis as meant in S. S. M. 15-18, and 
 no conclusive outcome. " Anchors Aweigh " is rather an 
 episode, or independent dramatized situation (S. S. M. 
 9 : 3, especially a and e). 
 
 3. Among the elements here present that are also 
 found in the conte are characterization (note the clear 
 indication of the three personalities, that of the cabman 
 affording contrast much as Shakspere's comic personages 
 
 10
 
 Anchors Aweigh 11 
 
 afford contrast in emotional or tragic situations). The 
 character element is strong enough to warrant us in coin- 
 ing the descriptive phrase, " character episode," in rec- 
 ognition of its presence. 
 
 4. The episode achieves a single impression, largely 
 that of atmosphere and emotion (subjective coloring; 
 S. S. M. 54-57), and not the result of struggle and out- 
 come (plot).
 
 ANCHORS AWEIGH 
 By Harriet Welles 
 
 Reprinted frc-n " Scribner's Magazine " for August, 1917, by Per- 
 mission of the Editors and the Author. 
 (Copyrighted, 1917) 
 
 1. So firmly is the superstition, " It is bad luck to 
 watch your husband's ship out of sight," established among 
 " the wives " in the United States navy, that if you had 
 questioned Mrs. Frank Bradley — wife of a junior lieu- 
 tenant and a bride of two months — as to its origin, she 
 would have answered unhesitatingly that it was " an order 
 from the secretary of the navy." 
 
 2. She had no idea of disobeying the order when, after 
 bidding her husband good-by very early that morning and 
 crying herself into a state of exhaustion afterward, she 
 realized she could get to the navy-yard in time to see the 
 ship sail and perhaps catch a last glimpse of him. 
 
 3. Like most officers. Lieutenant Bradley " didn't want 
 his wife making a nuisance of herself around the ship," 
 but if she sat in the jitney he wouldn't know she was 
 there. And the jitney-man, on being questioned as to 
 charges — for the prudent wife of a junior lieutenant at- 
 tends to such details, even in time of stress — had answered 
 that "he wouldn't charge anything for waiting; it'd be 
 a kind of novelty to watch a battleship get away." 
 
 4. Out of the wind, sheltered by a building, Mrs. 
 Bradley could see that the few men on deck were busy. 
 
 12
 
 Anchors Aweiqh 13 
 
 5. The duty-launch had been hoisted and secured ; the 
 forward gangway lowered ; two noisy tugs came alongside ; 
 on the bridge the navigator bent over a large chart ; the 
 mail-orderly returned from his last trip to the post-office ; 
 a messenger boy, whistling lustily, sauntered up with a 
 handful of telegrams. 
 
 6. Four bells struck. The ship was to sail at half-past 
 ten. Through a blur of tears Mrs. Bradley saw the navy- 
 yard workmen gather about the after gangway. 
 
 7. Several poorly clad women arrived and stood near 
 her; they tried to cheer a younger woman who was sob- 
 bing and monotonously asking: "What if there's war?" 
 
 8. The jitney-man heard her. " If there's war that 
 big ship might be the first one to go to the bottom," he 
 observed cheerfully to his passenger. 
 
 9. " Good-morning ! It's little Mrs. Bradley, isn't 
 it ? " questioned a pleasant voice. 
 
 10. The admiral's wife stood beside the jitney. 
 
 11. "I'm visiting at the commandant's — the house is 
 so near I couldn't resist getting a last glimpse of things," 
 she said, and laughed apologetically. " John hates women 
 hanging around the ship — but he can't see me here," she 
 added. 
 
 12. " Do admirals feel that way ? I thought it was just 
 my husband," said Mrs. Bradley. 
 
 13. The admiral's wife smiled. 
 
 14. " This must be your first parting," she observed. 
 
 15. Mrs. Bradley nodded forlornly. 
 
 16. " Because there are fifty-two officers on that ship 
 — ^most of them are married — and fifty of the wives aren't 
 anywhere in sight," said the admiral's wife. 
 
 17. " They've grown used to seeing their husbands
 
 14 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 go — or else they don't love them as I do mine," remarked 
 Mrs. Bradley resentfully. 
 
 IS. " I've said good-by to John in every port from 
 Olongapo to Pensacola ; it never loses its novelty by get- 
 ting easier; but one grows more — patient," observed the 
 admiral's wife. 
 
 19. " Other times couldn't be as bad ! This parting is 
 terrible, and hard, because there may be war," cried Mrs. 
 Bradley. 
 
 20. The admiral's wife did not answer. She clinched 
 her hands as she remembered a parting long ago in a gray 
 hospital-room, when her ensign son looked at her from un- 
 recognizing eyes and agonizingly moved his body under 
 the encircling bandages. . . . 
 
 21. " Minor turret explosion on battleship," announced 
 the earliest editions of the newspapers when, without a 
 word for her to treasure through the years, her son had 
 slipped aw'ay . . . into the dawn. 
 
 22. Resolutely the admiral's wife glanced at the little 
 group of women near them. 
 
 23. " Those are sailors' wives — one of them has a baby 
 that is too tiny to bring here this cold morning," she said. 
 
 24. " That's the one that's crying all time about war," 
 volunteered the jitney-man. 
 
 25. " Frank says — it will be a naval war," said Mrs. 
 Bradley, swallowing with difficulty. 
 
 26. "I hope you cheered him up — our men need all 
 their courage during these trying days," said the admiral's 
 wife briskly. She did not mention that five times during 
 their last few minutes together the admiral had reminded 
 her not to forget to pay his life-insurance dues. 
 
 27. Mrs. Bradley began to cry. " I told Frank . . .
 
 Anchoes Aweigh 15 
 
 that if anything happened to . . . him . . . I'd soon 
 join him," she sobbed. 
 
 28. "Splendid!" observed the admiral's wife dryly; 
 " after that I suppose he left the house singing joyfully — 
 at the top of his voice." 
 
 29. " What gets me is that while those fellows are 
 going about their business on deck there can be a sub- 
 marine sitting right on the bottom underneath them," re- 
 marked the jitney-man speculatively. 
 
 30. " Your first name doesn't happen to be Job, does 
 it ? " the admiral's wife asked him impersonally. 
 
 31. " No'm," he answered — " Samuel — Samuel John- 
 son Jones — but, in case you want me, the telephone's 
 under the name of Sullivan " 
 
 32. Five bells struck. 
 
 33. The ship's siren tore the silence into dangling 
 shreds. Tugs added their hoarse voices. ISTear-by de- 
 stroyers called a greeting — and farewell. Voices shouted 
 orders — through drifting clouds of smoke. 
 
 34. Slowly . . . the great dreadnought moved . . . 
 and as the whistles quieted down the band on the quarter- 
 deck played the opening bars of the favorite naval-academy 
 song, " Anchors Aweigh." 
 
 35. Gayly the old tune lilted over the crowded gray 
 masses of steel and stone as it had echoed across sunny 
 parade-ground and uproarious football fields — when youth 
 called to youth of springtime that is so quickly gone. 
 
 36. Mrs. Bradley, her eyes shining, jumped from the 
 jitney and frantically waved her muif. Tears and fore- 
 bodings were swept away by an overwhelming flood of 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 37. The sailors' wives stepped forward; the one with
 
 IG Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the tiny baby lifted it high and, steadying its head, bade 
 it " look at father's boat — and the pretty flag." 
 
 38. Puffing . . . the tugs warped the ship from her 
 pier . . . shoved her sidewise . . . into the channel 
 . . . paused ... a perceptible minute . . . and moved 
 ahead . . . down-stream. 
 
 39. Slowly . . . she gathered momentum ; at her bow 
 two white-tipped lines of water flowed sharply out . . . 
 more faintly " Anchors Aweigh " drifted back on the cold 
 wind. 
 
 40. Mrs. Bradley, mindful of superstition, turned away 
 and climbed into the jitney. 
 
 41. " But where is the admiral's wife ? " she asked. 
 
 42. " The lady that was talking to you ? She's gone ! " 
 said the jitney-man. " I asked her something, but she 
 didn't answer — just shook her head and walked away — 
 sort of stumbling " 
 
 43. He cranked the engine vigorously. 
 
 44. " The reason she couldn't answer was because she 
 was crying," said the jitney-man.
 
 MISS MITTY AND THE AGES HENCE 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. In considering the comments made on this story, the 
 student is cautioned to remember that they are made to 
 explain more clearly what, in its essentials, the conte, 
 strictly so called, is and is not ; they are not to be con- 
 strued into derogatory judgment of the story. A piece of 
 short fiction may have numerous merits that quite war- 
 rant its existence, yet not be a conte, and authors are 
 under no obligation to cast their narrative always in the 
 short-story mold. That this narrative was accepted by 
 the editor justifies, from the commercial point of view, 
 the author's method. So do two further considerations. 
 One is, that it doubtless was written in this form partly 
 because the form fitted the speculative mood in which the 
 theme had its birth. The other is, that the narrative, 
 though not a close-wrought story, has doubtless pleased 
 numerous readers (as it has this commentator) by provok- 
 ing them also to a reflective consideration of the idea on 
 which it is made to turn. To these we may add that the 
 speculation so stimulated in the reader is enlivened and 
 given concentration by means of the two distinct illus- 
 trative episodes worked out to support the theme. If 
 therefore one is tempted to condemn the structural plan, 
 he should before deciding answer these questions : Is close- 
 wrought dramatic plot wholly consistent with the presen- 
 tation of an idea that is conceived and considered in a 
 merely speculative mood ? And would a single illustra- 
 
 17
 
 IS Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 tion of the tlienuitic idea bo adequate to impress it on 
 us ? — i.e., if the author gave us only episode one or epi- 
 sode two, without the other, should we have a wholly satis- 
 fying amount of " evidence " before us, or would the 
 speculation appear inadequately supported with illustra- 
 tive incidents ? (How is it in " Nerve " ?) Evidently, 
 then, narrative fiction may be employed for purposes other 
 than that of the conte in its strict form ; see S. S. M. 
 26 : 1-2, but in applying the comment, omit the word 
 " baldly " as there used, since the speculative mood and 
 the management of the separate episodes redeems " Miss 
 Mitty " from bald didacticism. 
 
 2. As a whole, this narrative illustrates loose plot 
 (S. S. M. 10-12). Though each part separately has an 
 interwrought plot of its own, the two together have slight 
 " logical " connection with each other. The appearance 
 of Miss Mitty in each is the only link, and this appear- 
 ance is purely arbitrary. Except that the author awar- 
 edly chose to introduce her into each of the two, they are 
 essentially distinct and separate stories, with independ- 
 ent plots. These separate plots will moreover be found 
 nearer the standards of the close-wrought plot than is the 
 linked-together set of events made by joining them. 
 Again, in each part the development is sketchy rather than 
 intensive; and in part two. Miss Mitty almost drops out 
 of the real story ; the vital part could be told readily with- 
 out her, for it is what concerns Kate and Ten Eyck, and 
 Miss Mitty is not at all indispensable to any incident it 
 contains. Even Kate's refusal to accept Ten Eyck's at- 
 tentions (pars. Y4, 88) can be motivated entirely without 
 Miss Mitty. 
 
 3. Owing to the looseness of the plot, few of the unities
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 19 
 
 can be observed. Neither the unity of time, the unity of 
 place, the unity of persons, nor the unity of action is pre- 
 served, or sought. A certain unity of tone results from 
 the fact that the author tells both episodes in the same 
 spirit, and a factitious unity of person is given by con- 
 tinuing Miss Mitty as a person in part two. But even so 
 the principal unifying element is the theme suggested by 
 the title. In " His Bubble Reputation " we noted the 
 absence of any person who could be regarded as the cen- 
 tral person. In the present story. Miss Mitty is formally 
 the central person. But which of the two narratives is 
 most unified in its effect ? Is the one intensive, the other 
 extensive (or cursory) in its method ? 
 
 4. The principle of unity can be studied " in reverse " 
 by noting that the present narrative does not consist of 
 two related incidents, or episodes, belonging to the same 
 crisis or critical period (S. S. M., 15-18), but of two dis- 
 tinct episodes each having its own critical period and in- 
 dependent outcome, unrelated to that of the other ; and by 
 noting the consequent dispersal of attention and impres- 
 sion if the two be taken together — as they are here pre- 
 sented. 
 
 5. The same method of construction — the loose cou- 
 pling together of episodes rather than the close inter- 
 twining of plot incidents — is responsible for the fact that 
 unity of effect is comparatively weak. See S. S. M., 180 : 4. 
 The method of construction much resembles that described 
 in S. S. M. 26-27 as characterizing didactic narration. In 
 estimating the strength of effect of the present narrative, 
 compare it with the effect produced by the extract 
 printed in S. S. M., 19 ff ; then consider S. S. M., 19 ff., 
 pars. 1 and 3.
 
 20 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 6. The student can profitably puzzle himself by trying 
 to classify this narrative under the heads given in 
 S. S. M. 9:3. 
 
 7. Part one and part two of the narrative contain 
 each the essential concept of a short story, but in rather 
 sketchy or outline development. Profitable practice can 
 be had by developing out of either of these parts a more 
 detailed and closely verought conte, following especially 
 the technique explained in S. S. M. 15-18, supplemented 
 by that explained on pp. 10-15 and 19-22.
 
 MISS MITTY AND THE AGES HENCE 
 By Anne O'Hagan 
 
 Reprinted through the courteous permission of the Editors and the 
 
 Author, from " femith's Magazine," February, 1914. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1914, by Street and Smith) 
 
 1. Miss Mitty often said that she was the loneliest 
 woman in the world. She never said it lugubri- 
 ously, however. The words were always spoken in a 
 way that seemed rather to call attention to the blessings 
 of the person whom she addressed than to her own 
 sorrows. 
 
 2. " If only I had an old mother, now," Miss Mitty 
 would say to the possessor of an old mother, half admir- 
 ingly, half enviously, " it seems to me I'd never feel 
 lonely any more. Or an old father, who needed me, or 
 even an aunt or an uncle." 
 
 3. She seldom let her flights of fancy in regard to 
 human belongings reach the height of expressing a desire 
 for a husband or for children of her own. Sometimes, to 
 be sure, she used to say: 
 
 4. " I have half a mind to adopt a baby. Wouldn't 
 it be lovely to have someone to do for, besides yourself? 
 But, dear me, what would I do with it while I was out 
 sewing all day ? Not many people would want their 
 seamstress bringing a baby to work. But it would be nice 
 to find it in its little crib when I came home of an 
 evening." 
 
 21
 
 22 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 5. Very often lliss Mitty's listeners, the married 
 women for whom she did sewing, wonld shake their heads 
 at her, and would tell her that she didn't know when she 
 was well off; that she had no idea of the work and the 
 worry that she was missing. 
 
 6. And Miss Mitty, cocking her head on one side, and 
 appearing to debate the question within her mind, would 
 generally say: 
 
 1. " "Well, work and worry against loneliness — and I'll 
 take the work and worry every time. Somehow you get 
 to feeling that you're no use in the world, if all that you 
 do is to keep a watertight roof over your own head, and a 
 warm coat on your own back, and good food in your own 
 stomach, and put by a little each week for your own grave 
 when all's over with you. 
 
 8. " It isn't just the comfort of having someone to do 
 for, now, that a lonely person misses. It's the going on 
 and on — ages on. Perhaps you aren't much, and you 
 haven't seen much or known much ; but, sakes alive, what 
 does it matter if you're going to have it all in your great- 
 great-grandson — if he's going to see the Indian temples 
 and the castles on the Khine, and if he's going to know 
 all that there is in books, and be able to tell the stars one 
 from another? You've helped to make him. It's you 
 that's going on in him. And every time that you do a 
 hard, right thing, or let alone an easy, wrong thing, why, 
 you're affecting him a hundred years away ! Oh, it's just 
 wonderful ! But if you're a lone woman, like me, it's not 
 only comfort that you miss, it's being an influence. 
 I've always wanted to be an influence, and look at 
 me!" 
 
 9. And Miss Mitty's joyous, throaty, little laugh would
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 23 
 
 ring out in a half-plaintive, half-merry self-derision. She 
 saw the humor of mentioning herself and influence in the 
 same breath. 
 
 10. However, that imagination of Miss Mitty's which 
 could picture grandsons alive and real among the mar- 
 velous scenes familiar to her only through '' The World's 
 Wonder Book," enabled her to live fairly happily, although 
 she conscientiously tried to keep it under control during 
 five out of the seven days in each week. But on Saturday 
 afternoons and Sundays she gave it a free rein. And that 
 was how it happened that habitues of upper Fifth Avenue 
 grew in time to have a certain feeling of recognition for 
 an agile little figure, rather queerly dressed, and for a 
 wistful, half-smiling, middle-aged little face that they saw 
 once a week in their habitat. For Miss Mitty gave her 
 imagination its Saturday half holiday about matinee and 
 tea time on that gay and crowded thoroughfare. 
 
 11. She always walked along quite briskly, with an 
 air of purpose. She always seemed to have an errand, a 
 pleasant errand, if one could judge from the soft shining 
 of her nearsighted eyes behind her glasses, and the faint 
 smiling of her lips. And if one followed her movements, 
 he would discover that she did, indeed, have an errand. 
 She always went on Saturdays to the big candy store, 
 where men were buying their week-end boxes, and women 
 making their dinner-table selections. And she always 
 trotted, with her birdlike briskness of manner, to that part 
 of the long counter devoted to the more innocuous variety 
 of sweets suitable for children. She scanned them all with 
 a judicial eye ; now and then even with a judicial mouth 
 she tested them. Anyone looking at her would have said, 
 inevitably, that she was a quaintly careful mother, prop-
 
 24 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 cy\\ c'oiK'cnu'tl about the digestion of a nursery full of 
 ehiklren. 
 
 12. That was what Radcliff said to himself the first 
 time that he saw her. Radcliff always stopped at the big 
 candy shop on his way down from his chambers to the 
 train that he took each Saturday afternoon out to Ardsley 
 and Amy Kleston. Amy had a ridiculous appetite for 
 niarrons, and it always amused him and gratified some 
 sense of masculine superiority in him to see the childlike 
 
 1-11. The openinsi' has the nature of a character sketch. Re- 
 view S. S. M., 122-151, and see S. S. M., 161:15-20; 182:6-9; 
 209:3-4; 222-228.— Does this opening conform to S. S. M., 
 124: 5-6? Can you suggest a better way of organizing and order- 
 ing the materials necessary for this narrative? Since Miss Mitty 
 is to be the determining influence throughout, is it well to devote 
 so much attention to her at the outset? Is such a character sketch 
 as effective for opening as a dramatic incident would be? Cf. 
 this opening with that of " That Hahnheimer Story," " A Rag- 
 time Lady," "A Quiet Life," "His Bubble Reputation," "The 
 Love of Men," " The Cat and the Fiddle," " The Opal Morning," 
 " The Great God," et al., and point out the reasons you discover 
 for employing the different forms in the different stories (consider 
 especially the aptness of these openings to catch interest — 
 S. S. M., 134 : 20-21 — and their particular adaptedness to the rest 
 of the story in contributing to its general arrangement and 
 organization). — Estimate the opening with reference to S. S. M., 
 137 : 2, e.g. ; with reference to 140 : 7-8 ; with reference to 
 149 : 18-19.— S. S. M., 152:3. How do you account for the 
 character-sketch opening of the narrative, if the princij^le of this 
 paragraph is sound? — S. S. M., 164: 19. Is the comment verified 
 by the present narrative? — S. S. M., 182:6-9. Studying Miss 
 Mitty in pars. 1-11 of the narrative, and throughout it, subject 
 the presentation to the test of the various principles indicated by 
 the italics. — S. S. M., 211 : 4. Does the author observe this prin- 
 ciple? — Test the characterization by the principles of S. S. M., 
 222-229. — Write out a lively criticism of the narrative based on 
 the study directed above.
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 25 
 
 eagerness with which she dipped into the big box. Child- 
 like eagerness was such an unexpected quality in Amy 
 that it was probably the most piquantly charming thing 
 about her. 
 
 13. The first time that he saw Miss Mitty, distracted 
 between molasses peppermints and barley sugar, he smiled. 
 She was such an incongruous little figure in the shop. 
 Radcliff had an eye for contrasts in his so-called idle mo- 
 ments ; those were the moments in which he was not con- 
 cerned with the operations of the stock market. He had 
 tried being a story writer when he came out of college, 
 before he had found out how much more profitable it is to 
 be a broker; and some of his old tricks of mind and 
 imagination had remained with him. He tried to describe 
 Miss Mitty, with her quaint little air, and her quaint, old- 
 fashioned clothes, to Amy. But Mrs. Kleston was not 
 interested. 
 
 14. The next Saturday, RadclifF's imagination insisted 
 upon following Miss Mitty home and distributing that 
 pound of candy, piece by piece, and always after meals, 
 among five or six children. He did not mention this pic- 
 ture to Amy Kleston. She had told him, quite frankly, 
 that children bored her ; she admitted that she had been 
 bored even by her own little boy during the three or 
 four years that she had permitted the child and Mr. 
 Kleston to condemn her to the sort of life that she 
 loathed. 
 
 15. Amy's son had been born two years after her mar- 
 riage, and that insane experiment, as she called it, had 
 lasted only six years before the divorce. Perhaps she was 
 right in saying that she had tried the situation long 
 enough to know that it didn't suit her. The boy was living
 
 20 Today's Short Stokiks Analyzed 
 
 with his father's jinreiits, and in the early days of his in- 
 t'at nation it had vclii'ved KadclitT innnonscly to know that 
 he woukl never be obliged to share Amy's affection with 
 the child of another man, Xatnrally, therefore, he did 
 not reveal to the fascinating Mrs. Kleston, on the second 
 Saturday of observing Miss Mitty, the idle speculation 
 that the sight of her had aroused in him. 
 
 16. On the third Saturday he was amazed to find that 
 he was looking forward with some anxiety to seeing the 
 queer little woman with the friendly eyes and the kind 
 smile. The vision of her occupied the foreground of his 
 imagination even to the exclusion of the beautiful figure 
 that usually held that place at that hour — the figure of 
 Amy Kleston, long, slim, sinuous, with dark, provocative 
 eyes, and skin as fair as a camellia petal. He felt a relief, 
 a sense of not being cheated, when he arrived at the store 
 in time to meet Miss Mitty and her modest parcel going 
 out. 
 
 17. He held the door open for her, thereby ousting 
 from the service for w^hich he was hired a small boy 
 resplendent in green and brass livery. Miss Mitty thanked 
 him heartily, and he caught the quality of her voice, its 
 wistful, happy friendliness. He told himself that she re- 
 minded him of a girl whom he had known out home in 
 Indiana long ago, a girl with whom he had gone to school, 
 a girl to whom — Radcliff called a sharp halt upon his 
 recollections. 
 
 18. " There's no use being a sentimental fool," he told 
 himself, " and she's probably buying candy this blessed 
 minute for her brood's Sunday luncheon." 
 
 19. Her brood ! If the glitter of success and the 
 glamour of a succession of Amy Klestons had not
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 27 
 
 estranged him and the Indiana girl years and years ago, 
 that brood might have been his ! 
 
 20. " Thank God it isn't ! " said Eadcliff roughly. 
 
 21. He thought that he was saying it to himself, and 
 not until the young goddess behind the counter raised her 
 eyebrows at him and icily begged his " pawdon," did he 
 realize that he had spoken aloud. Whereupon he begged 
 her pardon, and demanded the usual Saturday supply of 
 marrons for his fiancee. 
 
 22. He hoped that Amy and her father and mother, 
 with whom she was living, would not have the house filled 
 with the usual noisy, card-playing, hard-riding, hard- 
 drinking crowd of week-enders. He wanted a chance to 
 talk to Amy alone, seriously, not merely for the usual 
 snatched half hour of allurement and endearment ; he 
 wanted to talk to her about their marriage. But by some 
 obstinate trick, his imagination refused to glow at the 
 thought of that consummation, and went following 
 Miss Mitty home to her supposititious family. It also 
 took a journey westward to the girl he used to 
 know. 
 
 23. Fate vouchsafed the opportunity for serious con- 
 versation with his affianced. And no one could have been 
 more surprised than he himself to hear how he availed 
 himself of it. 
 
 24. " How about your little boy. Amy ? " he asked 
 Mrs. Kleston, after she had averred that she could get 
 ready for her wedding in a month, because " a divorcee 
 should always be married quietly ; it's bad taste not 
 to." 
 
 25. Amy's eyes narrowed at the absurd question, and 
 all the supple, graceful body seemed to stiffen.
 
 28 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 2G. " Whixt do you luoau ? " she asked shortly. 
 
 27. " You'll want hiui with you, when you have a 
 home of your own again?" suggested Radcliff. "The 
 court awaiHUnl him to you, did it not? " 
 
 28. '' Divided him between us," Amy corrected him 
 coldly. '' The rest of the arrangement was a purely 
 amicable one between us. The child's all right. Why 
 should I bother? The old Klestons are devoted to him. 
 It would break their hearts," added Amy piously, as one 
 who could not be guilty of harshness to the aged, " to give 
 him up." 
 
 29. " And doesn't it do anything to your heart. 
 Amy?" 
 
 30. " Really, Hal, I've never made the slightest pre- 
 tense of considering myself a good mother, or even the pos- 
 sibility of a good mother. Children bore me stiff. It's 
 much better for every one concerned that the boy should 
 stay w^here he is, especially for himself." 
 
 31. Radcliff listened attentively, all the while con- 
 trasting in his mind Amy's looks and voice with the looks 
 and voice of the w^oman for whom he had opened the door 
 of the candy shop, and of the girl whom he had used to 
 know in Indiana. And, suddenly, he heard himself say- 
 ing, again greatly to his own astonishment : 
 
 32. " I'm getting old, Amy. I'm thirty-eight. I 
 want the real thing." 
 
 33. And Amy Kleston, being as she herself would 
 have said, no fool, had understood him perfectly. And 
 having ample proof on every hand that not all men had 
 reached the same age as Radcliff, or yearned for the same 
 variety of reality, she dismissed him to seek what he 
 wanted elsewhere.
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 29 
 
 34. Radcliff continued his Saturday afternoon pil- 
 grimages to the candy shop, and found some solace for a 
 sore and turbulent spirit in the smiling regard of Miss 
 Mitty. He bought innocuous candies himself, now, to 
 present to the children of his college chum, with whom he 
 had begun the pleasing practice of Sunday dining. The 
 college chum's wife had a sister who would have been 
 somewhat surprised to learn that her first attraction in 
 Mr. Radcliff's eyes was a fancied resemblance to Miss 
 Mitty, and perhaps a slight suggestion of the girl out in 
 Indiana, with her husband and her brood of children. In 
 time, of course, he came to think that there was no one 
 in the world at all like her, and to believe that that had 
 been his firm opinion from the first. 
 
 12-34. Observe the management of the transition from the 
 opening to the developing action. — From this point on to the end 
 of part one, apply S. S. M., 183 : 9. Are Radcliff and Amy 
 subordinate persons in comparison wth Miss Mitty? Did the 
 author intend them to be? Do they and their affairs tend to 
 overshadow Miss Mitty and usurp her importance in the series of 
 events? — The manifest function of part one is to illustrate and 
 enforce the thought, that the little Miss Mittys of the world after 
 all do influence the ages hence. Prepare an action plot (S. S. M., 
 77: D) for a conte (strict meaning) in which Radcliff and Amy 
 shall be clearly the leading persons, the struggle being that 
 between their opposed nature and 'news, Miss Mitty appearing 
 but incidentally, though precipitating the decisive moment or 
 affording the decisive impulse. The difference will be that the 
 new treatment will produce a true short story; raise Radcliff and 
 Amy from the anomalous position in which now they are subor- 
 dinate persons although supplying the dramatic material and 
 action ; and transform the basic dramatic action from that of 
 subordinate persons into that of persons-in-chief — those imme- 
 diately and directly affected by the outcome. Observe that in this 
 reorganizaton the determining fact is a shift in emphasis, begin- 
 ning with Miss Mitty and extending itself to all the elements of
 
 30 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 11. 
 
 35. Miss Mitty's Saturday afternoon extravagances did 
 not end with the purchase of the box of candy, whicli she 
 bought to be divided between her landlady's children, the 
 poor old lady with a sweet tooth in the second-story back 
 room, and herself. She had another, which she had be- 
 gun to permit herself about a year before the time when 
 Radcliff had first noticed her. 
 
 36. As she walked up the avenue one afternoon, she 
 had noticed for the first time a tiny flower shop tucked 
 away in what must once have been only an entrance hall. 
 Miss Mitty always stopped before the big plate-glass win- 
 dows with glorious pots, and bushes, and vases behind 
 them, and glued her nose to the broad panes. But she 
 would never have had the temerity to enter one of those. 
 The little shop was different. She found it irresistible. 
 
 37. She had always loved flowers, and one of the 
 never-to-be-realized visions that she cherished was of her- 
 self weeding in a bright-colored country garden patch. On 
 the window sill of her fourth-story bedroom, she coaxed 
 geraniums to bloom, and even once succeeded in inducing 
 a sickly sprig of mignonette to raise its head from a 
 tiny flowerpot. But the cut flowers in the little shop called 
 to her, and she entered and was lost. 
 
 38. It was only three jonquils that she carried away — 
 
 the narrative. Nor could the new story be entitled " Miss Mitty 
 and the Ages Hence " — Note further that another reorganization 
 is possible, by which Miss Mitty can be kept as the central person, 
 but given a much more active and prominent part in the action 
 and outcome. In this case, the emphasis would not be shifted 
 from Miss Mitty; rather it would be increased by making her 
 actively and awaredly a direct participant.
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 31 
 
 wrapped up, first, in oiled paper, and then in Tvhitc — but 
 it marked the beginning of a new period in her existence. 
 Now that her tiny cemetery lot was paid for, now that her 
 twenty-year life-insurance policy had fallen due, and a 
 whole thousand dollars was hers to live on, should she ever 
 be ill, now that she had a regular clientele for which to 
 sew, so that five days and a half out of every week seemed 
 assured to her as long as she could find glasses strong 
 enough to enable her to count her stitches, why should she 
 not permit herself another self-indulgence ? Why should 
 she not, selfishly, piggishly, buy herself a Saturday posy, 
 to keep her company all Saturday evening, while she read 
 her paper, and her magazine, and her Bible, and to be 
 waiting to welcome her when she came home from church 
 on Sunday morning? 
 
 39. '' It wouldn't be quite like looking up to see an 
 old mother smiling at you, or coming home to find a baby 
 toddling to meet you, but next to them, I don't know of 
 a thing that would be more smiling and companionable- 
 like. I'm going to do it ! " 
 
 40. She did not confide all this to Kate Green, who 
 kept the little shop, until much later in their acquaintance. 
 In the first place, Kate was generally busy on Saturday 
 afternoons; the little shop in which she had invested al- 
 most all the small inheritance that she had received at her 
 mother's death, was doing very well. Kate explained 
 blithely to people who exclaimed at the comparative cheap- 
 ness of her wares that her rent was small compared to that 
 of the big shops, and that her staff was correspondingly 
 small. Indeed, there would not have been room in the 
 little shop for any more or any larger employees than the 
 agile small boy who executed Kate's orders.
 
 32 Today's Shout Stories Anai.yzkd 
 
 41. All these tliiiiiis eoiiibined to iiiiike the venture a 
 success, but probahly the most potent factor in it was 
 Kate herself; Kate, who loved flowers, and knew bow to 
 care for them ; Kate, who always went in person at break 
 of day to the flower marts, and brought back with her at 
 least one rarity to make everyone pause in front of her 
 window that day; Kate, who was straiglit and strong- 
 looking, and who had lovely eyes, and lovely hair, and a 
 soft, pulsating color in her round cheeks. 
 
 42. " Doesn't anyone ever mistake you for a flower 
 yourself?" inquired Mr. Reginald Ten Eyck pleasantly 
 on the occasion of his first purchase, twenty-five dollars' 
 worth of big lilies to be sent to the Norwegian actress who 
 was doing Ibsen that year in the most fascinating broken 
 English. 
 
 43. Kate didn't have twenty-five dollars' worth of lilies 
 in the place, but she knew where she could get the rest. 
 She frowned at Mr. Ten Eyck's complimentary imper- 
 tinence, although Mr. Ten Eyck's manner always robbed 
 his impertinences of some of their offense. She answered 
 him somewhat curtly. 
 
 44. " jSTo one ever mistakes me for the sort of person 
 to whom he may be rude," she said. 
 
 45. A great wave of red rolled up over her face as 
 she said it. It was no easy matter for her to '' put a 
 young man in his place," as her old servant at home had 
 always declared it was necessary to do. Mr. Ten Eyck 
 laughed. 
 
 46. "A hit," he cried. "A very palpable hit! You 
 read Shakespeare, of course ? " 
 
 47. Kate frowned again, and then advanced with re- 
 lief toward a new customer entering the shop. But Mr,
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 33 
 
 Ten Eyck, who had ample leisure, and who would have 
 taken it if he had not already possessed it, waited until the 
 other customer had been served and had departed. 
 
 48. " I only stayed to apologize to you," he assured 
 her, with much sincerity. " You really ought to read 
 Shakespeare — he's ripping! I dare say you don't believe 
 me, because they taught you that in school. But it's the 
 truth — it's as true as that I'm really awfully sorry if my 
 freshness annoyed you. Forgive me, won't you ? " 
 
 49. Kate couldn't resist him. The seyere mask had to 
 fall away from her face, and the dimples to show. 
 
 50. " I forgive you," she said, trying to make the 
 severity of her voice atone for the leniency of her face. 
 
 51. " Shake hands on it ! " begged Mr. Ten Eyck. 
 
 52. Kate shook hands on it — it seemed the easiest way 
 to get rid of him. But she scarcely succeeded in doing 
 that. He became her regular customer ; he laid the foun- 
 dations of her modest success. Two and three times a 
 week he appeared in person to inspect Kate's stock, to 
 make suggestions, and to leave the most extravagant 
 orders. In addition to that, he sometimes sent his man 
 with less elaborate instructions. 
 
 53. The recipients of his floral attentions were many. 
 Kate used to curl her lip as she took some of the addresses. 
 In the beginning she had really almost felt the scorn that 
 she thought it necessary to show, as actress after actress, 
 chorus girl after chorus girl, appeared and disappeared 
 upon Mr. Ten Eyck's list. Later, she began to feel a 
 grudging curiosity about them. Was it pure fickleness 
 that made so many changes in the names, or was it that 
 the exigencies of their profession made New York their 
 habitat for only a short time ?
 
 34 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 54. She took to scaiiiiiiii;' the iicwsjiapcrs for the luuiu'S 
 not only of stars, but of what iiiiiilit bo called the niero 
 electric lights of the theatres. She had a great feeling of 
 relief the Monday when she read that the Norwegian 
 interpreter of Ibsen was playing her last six evenings and 
 her last two matinees that week. 
 
 55. About the decorous addresses on Fifth and j\radi- 
 son Avenues, and the blocks between them, to which many 
 of Mr. Ten Eyck's floral tributes were sent, she felt less 
 curiosity, less — she did not call it so to herself — jealousy. 
 " Bread-and-butter bouquets," Mr. Ten Eyck himself 
 named the flowers that went to those houses, and Kate took 
 a strange and alarming comfort in the saying. Even when 
 he came into the shop with lovely and resplendent ladies 
 in his company, and presented them to Kate with that air 
 of friendliness, all unaware of class distinctions, that was 
 his greatest charm, and told them how, if they wanted 
 original and charming decorations, they must give their 
 orders to Miss Green, his intimacy with those ladies did 
 not disturb her. He never brought the others. 
 
 56. There came a day, a few weeks after Miss Mitty 
 had entered upon her career of selfish extravagance in the 
 matter of flowers, and had established a sort of friendship 
 with the young florist, when the latter was compelled to 
 question herself concerning the feelings that she cherished 
 toward Mr. Ten Eyck. J^either he nor his man had been 
 in for a week. Kate had read the society notes of her 
 morning paper assiduously, but had discovered nothing of 
 his whereabouts or activities. Cotillions were danced 
 without his aid, debutantes made their bow to the world 
 without his congratulations, chorus girls made merry with- 
 out his help. Could he be ill, Kate wondered. She almost
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 35 
 
 had it in her thoughts to put together a modest bunch of 
 flowers, and to send it in a plain box to his address. But 
 she took the inclination by the neck, so to speak, and 
 shook it. 
 
 57. " Have you taken leave of your senses, Kate 
 Green ? " she asked herself, and forthvs^ith plunged into 
 plans for decorating Mrs. Montgomery's dinner table on 
 the next Friday. 
 
 58. It was a wild, blustery, winter day, and the nar- 
 row door into the narrow little shop seldom opened. The 
 telephone bell rang now and then, and orders were given 
 without inspection of the flowers. 
 
 59. Kate's assistant had gone to one of the park hotels 
 with a bunch of violets and orchids to welcome a girl just 
 arriving from Chicago, and she herself was alone in the 
 shop, W'hen the old-fashioned bell on the front door jan- 
 gled, and a man seemed blown into the little room. 
 
 60. Kate came from behind the desk with her compe- 
 tent saleswoman air, but before she had taken four steps 
 into the store, she came to a standstill. It was her chief 
 customer, Reginald Ten Eyck, who stood still near the 
 door, staring at her most curiously. She did not know 
 why she was suddenly stricken motionless by the look of 
 his pale face, the earnestness of his gaze. When he saw 
 that she w^as not advancing, Mr. Ten Eyck took a few steps 
 forward himself. 
 
 61. " Have you missed me ? " he demanded, with an 
 attempt at his usual airy manner. 
 
 62. Kate made a clutch after her own accustomed pose 
 of good business woman. 
 
 63. " You haven't been in for some time, have you ? " 
 she said pleasantly.
 
 3G Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 (U, IIo caiiu' closer, ami stood looking down at licr, 
 intent, brooding, yet with a little flicker of his old wliini- 
 sicalness. 
 
 05. " Ah, Kate, Kate ! And do you know why I have 
 stayed away ? " 
 
 GO. Kate wanted to say the obvious thing about his 
 having been busy, having been out of town, needing no 
 flowers. But the words would not come. She stood look- 
 ing up at him, and in her ears there was a throbbing that 
 seemed to be all the voices of the world saying to her : 
 
 67. " And this is love ! " 
 
 68. She shook her head in answer to his question. 
 
 69. " I've been trying to see how it would feel to get 
 on without seeing you," announced Reginald Ten Eyck. 
 " I find it feels like hell. I'll amend that to purgatory if 
 the word shocks you." He stooped and suddenly caught 
 her hands. 
 
 70. " Kate, Kate, I can't stand it ! Can you ? " 
 
 71. Her hands imprisoned in his, her eyes fixed upon 
 his ardent ones, her whole being in subjection to the new, 
 sudden force that had taken possession of her, Kate shook 
 her head. She didn't want to stand not seeing him ! His 
 face brightened and softened wonderfully. 
 
 72. " My dear girl ! My dear, truehearted girl ! You 
 shall never regret it — you shall never regret being sincere 
 to me, I swear it! A\'here am I to see you? Where do 
 you live ? I shall come and take you to dinner tonight, 
 and afterward you wall let me come and talk to you in 
 your own place." 
 
 73. The front door opened, and the messenger returned 
 from the hotel, his red, outstanding ears nearly blown 
 from bis head..
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 37 
 
 74. " At five minutes past six then/' said Ten Eyck, 
 releasing her liands. 
 
 75. The door closed behind him, and Kate, dazed, pal- 
 pitant with excitement and a dreamy happiness, went up 
 behind the desk again. 
 
 76. She was alone again in the shop in the middle of 
 the afternoon, when again the gale seemed to blow a cus- 
 tomer into the shop. Kate came forward slowly, hating 
 to break the trance in which she was spending the day. 
 But when she recognized Miss Mitty's funny little face, 
 red, and frost-nipped, and watery-eyed from the bufPet- 
 ings of the wind, she smiled in friendly fashion. 
 
 77. " This isn't your regular day ? " she said. 
 
 78. Miss Mitty, recovering her windblown breath with 
 a final gasp, looked up with shy pleasure. 
 
 79. " And have you really noticed that I only come on 
 Saturdays ? " she said. " I call that very friendly of you. 
 I don't hold with this notion, at all, of ISTew York's not 
 being a friendly place. People are pretty much as you 
 take 'em all the world over, is my belief. Well, Saturday 
 is my usual day. It's the only afternoon I'm not 
 sewing, or engaged to sew. But the lady where I'm 
 working today, Mrs. Miller, over on Broadway, near 
 Ninety-sixth, she's expecting her mother tonight from the 
 country, and she was trying to find some sweet peas to put 
 in her mother's room. It seems her mother has a garden 
 up where she lives, and is awful fond of flowers, and can't 
 abide flats. And so Mrs. Miller — but you understand 
 all that. She couldn't find any sweet peas up near her 
 place, and when I told her about you, ' and how you'd 
 surely have 'em if they were in the market, she asked me 
 to come down and see. That's how it happens."
 
 38 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 80. " There were almost none in the market ihis morn- 
 ing/' said Kate. " So many of the trains were late on 
 aceount of the blizzard. But I got two or three bunches, 
 and, with some lilies of the valley and mignonette, they'd 
 make quite a gardeny showing." 
 
 81. She was busy sliding the glass doors of her cases 
 back and forth. 
 
 82. "It's just what I told Mrs. Miller," cried Miss 
 Mitty, in a rapture of self-satisfaction and satisfaction 
 with Kate. " I said that if you didn't have sweet peas, 
 you'd have something that would make her mother think 
 of a garden. I told her — I hope you'll excuse my saying 
 it — that you looked like a girl whose mother had had a 
 garden. She did now, didn't she ? " 
 
 83. Miss Mitty's voice yearned for corroboration. 
 
 84. " Yes," said Kate shortly and in a low voice. 
 
 85. She was busying herself with the arrangement of 
 the flowers. Miss Mitty eyed her sympathetically. 
 
 86. " 1 hope you've got her with you," she ventured 
 a little diffidently. " Mine died when I was a baby, and 
 that's more than forty years ago. I caii't tell you what 
 I'd give to have an old mother to do for. I think it would 
 
 be the sweetest thing, next to having a baby " She 
 
 broke off with a little laugh that was full of pathos. 
 " Ain't I an old fool to be talking about babies ? Why, I 
 never even had a beau ! " 
 
 87. Kate looked at her with tragic eyes. She did not 
 know yet what the garrulous little woman had done. She 
 only knew that the heavy warmth and sweetness of the 
 trance that had enveloped her since morning was dissi- 
 pated, gone, and that she was obliged to see the world 
 again instead of the hazy dream. And in the foreground
 
 Miss Mitty and the Ages Hence 39 
 
 of that world there was a country garden, outside a little, 
 white-painted cottage. And among the pinks and the sweet 
 peas, the brave blue bachelors' buttons, and the white 
 phloxes, there moved a bent figure in a sunbonnet. From 
 out of the shadows of that sunbonnet a pair of dark eyes 
 followed Kate with adoring pride. 
 
 88. " Tommy," cried Kate, when the door had been 
 closed long upon Miss Mitty, " I'm sick. I'm going home. 
 There probably won't be anyone in to buy anything on 
 such an afternoon. If any orders come, call for messenger 
 boys to take them. Do the best you can for me. Tommy, 
 
 35-92. In general construction, part two is much like part one 
 — character sketching at the first, merging off into plotted nar- 
 ration of action by the secondary, or ancillary, persons. Like 
 part one, part two can readily be reeonsti-ucted ; for example, 
 thus: Pars. 35-39, omitted. Sentences 1-2 of 40 recast to read, 
 " Kate Green kept the little flower shop. She was generally busy 
 on . . ." Up to par. 76, no other changes. Pars. 76-87 dis- 
 placed by new material, showing how Kate suddenly realized that 
 she was about to yield merely to emotion, that Ten Eyck was still 
 merely the raw, unworked substance of manhood, and that their 
 love was likely to prove their ruin instead of their happiness 
 unless he should be developed into an industrious, purposeful 
 man. Then pars. 88 to end as they now stand, except for the 
 minor changes necessary to adapt them to the substituted part of 
 the narrative. — So modified, part two becomes an independent 
 narrative, as was the ease also with part one. — But part two can 
 likewise be reconstructed another way, like part one; i.e., with Miss 
 Mitty brought more importantly and dominantingly into the ac- 
 tion, and made the determining actor as well as merely (what she 
 is at present) a chance influence working its effect from outside 
 the dramatic events. — Finally, we may recast as first above 
 directed as far as par. 76, then — for the first time — introduce 
 some such person as Miss Mitty, briefly and summarily charac- 
 terized, let her converse to the same effect as at present, and exit ; 
 and so take up the original narrative again wthout change from
 
 40 Today's Shokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 niid iKtn't ttll niiyoue where I live, if anyone asks you. 
 Mind, now ! " 
 
 89. Two years later, Miss Mitty was surprised to be 
 one of the tiny handful of guests invited to the wedding 
 of Kate Green and Reginald Ten Eyck. It was a very 
 quiet wedding, except for the jovial declaration of the 
 elder Mr. Ten Eyck to the effect that nothing in his life 
 had given him so much satisfaction. 
 
 90. "' She's made a man of him," he assured his sister, 
 who had sustained herself through the ceremony with 
 smell ino; salts. " He's told me all about it. Wouldn't 
 
 par. 88 forward. This will accompUsh for part two the inci- 
 dental introduction of Miss Mitty (or her plot equivalent), such 
 as was suggested also for part one. — By noting these quite prac- 
 tical and practicable recasts, and working them out clearly in 
 rewritten narratives, the student will gain increased comprehen- 
 sion of the method of the present piece of narration and of the 
 management of plots and plot materials (especially plot inci- 
 dents) in general. 
 
 The following facts will also be illuminative : That in part one, 
 exposition of the plot (disregarding the character sketching of 
 Miss Mitty) begins with par. 12; that Miss Mitty is the com- 
 plicating influence and her appearance the generating circum- 
 stance; and that this circumstance therefore enters in the first 
 sentence directly concerned with the plot of the episode. The 
 critical period rises to the decisive moment in pars. 29-33, and the 
 falling action and outcome are found in 34. Then : That in part 
 two exposition (disregarding the character sketching) begins with 
 par. 40 ; that the critical period begins with the remark of Ten 
 Eyck (generating cii'cumstanee) in par. 42, reaching its first 
 climactic height in 56-57 and its grand climactic and decisive 
 moment in the detailed incident (retarded movement) of 60-75; 
 that preparation begins in par. 76 for the threatened reversal of 
 this decision, culminating in pars. 86-88 with what seems a second 
 decisive moment, reversing the earlier one (anticipatory delay; 
 S. S. M., 74, footnote); that there is a third period of balanced
 
 Miss Mitty and the x\ges Hence 41 
 
 flirt with him, wouldn't go about with him, wouldn't have 
 a damned thing to do with him, in short, until he pro- 
 posed in due form, and declared that he'd defy the whole 
 family rather than give her up. And she wouldn't have 
 a thing to do with that, either, though she told him that 
 she would have no scruples about the family part of it. 
 But she wouldn't marry a trifler, an idler. Well, you 
 know how Reggie hustled around and got a job, and how, 
 by heck, he has seemed to like it better than all his loafing ! 
 She's made a man of him. I'm proud of her. 
 
 91. " Oh, stop your drivel about a saleswoman on the 
 avenue ! They're going to run the shop still ; they'll 
 
 decision, or suspense — i.e., resistant delay — buried in the two 
 years the action of which is summarized in the three pars, of 
 outcome (89-91), in which time Ten Eyck was demonstrating his 
 real manhood; and that par. 92 is a formal philosophical close. — 
 Reviewing this analysis of the two plots, we see Miss Mitty as the 
 determining mfiuenee in each, in one appearing as the generating 
 circumstance and continuing as the exciting cause, and in the 
 other appearing as the detei'mining element that threatens to 
 reverse the outcome promised by the decisive moment (pars. 
 76-88), and thus sei^ving as the generating cause to protract the 
 struggle after the decisive moment and actually' modifying the 
 nature of the outcome as finally revealed. Theoretically, there- 
 fore, the narrative as a whole seems to have its unity secured by 
 means of a central person. But we saw (introductory notes) 
 that in some ways the totality of effect is lacking (S. S. M., 
 180:4). The reason for this is, that this central person is not 
 the dominant person in the three phases of plot, action, and 
 characterization (S. S. M., 181:5). The moral is, that unity is 
 not a matter of theoretical procedure so much as it is of thorough 
 integration, inter-working, and complete inter-relation and subor- 
 dination of all the story materials (S. S. M., 168:25-27; 104: 
 24-29; 166:23, "integration"). — Objection to these conclusions 
 may be raised on the ground that there is unified effect at the end. 
 Closer examination will probably reveal, however, that this unified
 
 42 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 supi^ly it from the greenhouses up on the farm. Fine girl, 
 pliR'ky little woman! I tell you what, I'm proud of my 
 son and danglitoi' — I'll wager I'll have cause to he proud 
 of my grandchildren ! " 
 
 92. But Miss Mitty, in her modesty, never dreams that 
 she, for all her loneliness, for all her lack of ties, has in- 
 fluenced the " ages hence " of which she sometimes wist- 
 fully dreams ; and that it is not alone possessions, even the 
 sacred possession of dear responsibilities, that influence 
 the generations yet unborn, the centuries yet to be; but 
 that these depend upon the vision that each one of us car- 
 ries in his heart. 
 
 impression results mainly from episode two, supplemented by the 
 impression of Miss Mitty created in the characterizing opening 
 (pars. 1-11), and that episode one (pars. 12-34) has made slight 
 impression on us, because we must forget it in order to enter into 
 episode two with undivided attention.
 
 m THE MATTER OF DISTANCE 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. The form of opening and close employed, show this 
 story to be clearly a theme story. The theme is most di- 
 rectly put in the closing paragraph (the terms used are 
 symbolical). 
 
 2. In conceiving the story, the author has apparently 
 begun with a theme, has then imagined a situation proper 
 to this theme, selecting persons and constructing a plot to 
 develop this situation through consistent action to an out- 
 come illustrative of the theme. 
 
 3. As the theme is illustrated by showing a single trait 
 of human nature at work in the two chief persons, the 
 story becomes a character story as well as a theme story. 
 But because this trait is found in all sorts of persons, the 
 individuality of the two chief actors must not be devel- 
 oped in detail, lest their individuality obscure this domi- 
 nant trait. Accordingly the emphasis is thrown instead 
 on this trait of human nature common to them, and as 
 persons they are differentiated but broadly, not minutely. 
 This fact accounts for the introduction of the minimum 
 amount only of individual character portrayal. Yet 
 enough is given to present to us two distinct personalities ; 
 we can even perceive hints of the temperament element of 
 character. Cf. S. S. M., 208 : 2 ; 218, note. 
 
 4. Again: The author, having started from a definite 
 theme, and being thereby led to employment of a single 
 character trait as the source of the motivating impulse, 
 
 43
 
 44 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 found himself as a consequence, when he came to con- 
 struct his plot, taking this character trait as his starting- 
 point. This led him to employ the method of S. S. M., 218 
 (A) and 218: 5 in constructing his plot. 
 
 5. The story is exceedingly compact. Test this by 
 trying to find parts that can be omitted without turning 
 the story into bare skeleton. See S. S. M., 251. 
 
 6. The exposition is distributed, not massed (S. S. M., 
 79: 1-5) ; and it is suggested rather than told. 
 
 7. The story is somewhat unusual in having two per- 
 sons as the central figure ; for after movement 2, the two 
 may be regarded as a sort of twin-aetor person, playing 
 a single part. In movements 1 and 2, on the other hand, 
 we have duplicated action with different actors; in move- 
 ment 2, the same action takes place afifecting O'Brien that 
 took place in movement 1 with Whiteside. 
 
 8. The plot is thoroughly successful in coming to a 
 head in the decisive moment; S. S. M., 94: 5- (6, 8). 
 
 9. The opening exemplifies S. S. M., 135 : 21. 
 
 10. The passage over from the opening to the first 
 movement is suggestive of method; cf. S. S. M., 151: 1. 
 
 11. The sequence is the time sequence (S. S. M., 153: 
 5-7), except that movement 2 takes place cotemporaneously 
 with movement 1. Study this management. 
 
 12. The story observes the unities of action, time, 
 person (see note 7, just above), and theme; S. S. M., 
 178: 1-15. 
 
 13. The story makes skillful use of dialogue ; S. S. M., 
 229 : 1-2 ; 230 : 4 ; 232 : 6 ; 234 : 9-12. In its dialect, it 
 observes the principles of S. S. M., 248 : 12.
 
 IN THE MATTER OF DISTANCE 
 
 By John Bakton Oxford 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from " The 
 
 Red Book " for June, 1914. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1914) 
 
 1. From West Cherry ^ Street to Beverly Avenue, as the 
 crow flies, is perhaps a mile and a half ; by devious streets 
 and avenues — up Middlesex, down Crawford,* .along the 
 entire length of Westmoreland Avenue — it is considerably 
 over two miles; but, if you are judging by standards, 
 social, intellectual, and ethical, a good half the circum- 
 ference of the earth lies between West Cherry Street and 
 Beverly Avenue.^ 
 
 2. West Cherry Street is noisy, unclean, dilapidated, 
 out-at-the-elbows ; Beverly Avenue — isn't/ In West 
 Cherry Street swarms of noisy youngsters, left to their own 
 
 1. * Study the employment here of place names to give the im- 
 pression of place atmosphere. What is shadowed forth in these 
 names is put into du'ect description in par. 2. 
 
 'Theme is important in this story; the motif is, "Brothers 
 under the skin." One touch of nature — human nature — makes 
 two men, of quite unlike social status, akin in their behavior in 
 like circumstances. Contrast balanced against fundamental like- 
 ness in one single trait, lies at the bottom of the effect of the 
 story. This sentence effectually presents a forecast of the con- 
 trast involved. 
 
 2. ' " Beverly Avenue — isn't." Why is this way of making the 
 comparison more effective than an enumeration of details would 
 be? 
 
 45
 
 46 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 devices, amuse themselves with hazardous games which en- 
 tail much swiftness and much keenness of eye to avert 
 their untimel}' ends beneath the wheels of passing drays; 
 the children of Beverly Avenue — far less in number than 
 those of West Cherry Street, although Beverly Avenue is 
 a much longer thoroughfare — amuse themselves much 
 more sanely and safely and without the shrill, car-splitting 
 whoops of the West Cherryites, because they are carefully 
 herded by trim and white-capped nurse-maids whose keen 
 eyes are solely for their small charges — unless one of the 
 good-looking young mounted policemen happens along. 
 
 3. The property owners ^ of Beverly Avenue and the 
 humble rent-payers ^ of West Cherry Street, you may 
 
 A descriptive paragraph, amplifying the hint of contrast given 
 in par. 1. Note its concentrative, or intensifying, value 
 (S. S. M., 109:33-34). Note also that it manages to ^imply a 
 comment on social differences as they affect children. This par- 
 ticular aspect of social differences is used because two children 
 constitute one of the chief dependencies for motivating the con- 
 duct of the two men. Observe further how the details continue 
 the effect of place atmosphere. To what extent does the men- 
 tion of the nurse-maids and the mounted policemen constitute 
 description of scene? Is this its purpose? — Is there irony or 
 satire anywhere in the paragraph? 
 
 3. ' Observe the reiteration of the contrast by means of the pair? 
 of contrasting terms. Note especially the emphasis on distance; 
 the motif is (to repeat it), Socially remote, humanly near. — 
 * The three paragraphs have emphasized the apparent contrast 
 — the unlikeness (seen mostly in externals) in social rank, 
 wealth, and the like. The last sentence now, with a sudden 
 reversal, brings us up with a jerk to face the thought that all 
 these measures of distance may be useless or untrue in certain 
 circumstances. It thus makes sure of our attention. — pars. 1. 
 2, 3. Cf. S. S. M., 122-151, passim. A live, interest-getting 
 opening. It hints at the motif and strikes the keynote of the 
 narration. In this story, the tone of narration is determined
 
 In the Matter of Distance 47 
 
 readily surmise, are not at all the same breed of cats. 
 West Cherry Street ^ is West Cherry Street, and Beverly 
 Avenue ^ is Beverly Avenue, and there you are ! They 
 are a mile and a half distant,^ two miles apart,^ twelve- 
 thousand-odd miles removed ^ — just whichever way you 
 happen to compute it. And sometimes none of these reck- 
 onings apply and you have to compute that distance on an 
 entirely new basis.^ For instance : 
 
 4. A limousine rolled away from ISTumber 684 Bev- 
 erly Avenue. It was a six-cylinder limousine of an 
 ultra-expensive make. Its brass glistened; its polished 
 sides shone; there was a big bunch of orchids in 
 the flower-holder just behind the liveried chauffeur's 
 back. 
 
 5. In the limousine were Mr. Malcom Whiteside and 
 his son-in-law, Robert Whittleby. Mr. Robert Whittleby 
 had said just before entering the car: 
 
 largely by the author's attitude — genial and amused satire, 
 gradually deepening into earnest human sympathy. In so far 
 as the opening indicates the social rank of the two men who 
 appear later, it is expository, since this difference in status is 
 part of the precedent facts on which the theme-development, by 
 means of the action, depends. — Observe how description (with 
 flashes of narration) is made to take the place of a philosophical 
 " overture." Cf. the last paragraph of the story. 
 
 4. This paragraph presents the setting in which the first move- 
 ment of the rising action will take place; the details mentioned 
 have been chosen for their atmosphere value. Note the economy 
 of detail and the swiftness of the description. Note also how 
 the setting is placed before the beginning of the action; is this 
 a fortunate placing? Cf. S.S. M., 165-167. 
 
 5. Introduces one of the leading and one of the supporting 
 actors. Why is no description of Whiteside's dress needed? 
 (Cf. par. 25).
 
 48 TonAv's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 6. " To the White Star Docks, William! " 
 
 7. As he said it, iMr. Malcom Whiteside had hitched 
 uneasily ^ on the cushions and turned to look anxiously at 
 a certain window in the big house where the shades were 
 pulled do\\ai. lie had turned back to say to his son-in- 
 law: 
 
 8. " Now if 1 thoufjht Elizabeth " 
 
 9. Whereupon Mr. Robert Whittleby had interrupted 
 him wath : 
 
 10. " Oh, don't let that worry you. The kid's all 
 right. I think myself it's measles, despite what the doctor 
 says. Anyway, it's nothing at all serious. If you don't 
 
 6-7. What is gained by introducing this speech here? Could the 
 expository fact be so well presented elsewhere? Why not, for 
 instance, in par. 10, "If you don't get this ocean liner?" — Is 
 anything gained by using direct speech? Substitute for dialogue 
 this narrative sentence : " They were on their way to the White 
 Star Docks." Does this sentence together with par. 7, show that 
 Whiteside was too much occupied to pay attention to their 
 starting?—' Mood hint (S. S. M., 257). 
 
 8. Although the exposition is not complete, the action has now 
 begun. — See S. S. M., 229-231; the dialogue is now presenting 
 expository fact. — Par. 7 hints at the (first) complication; this 
 speech begins to give the hint definiteness. 
 
 9-10. " Interrupted." — Here the interrupting speech has three 
 functions. First, it represents the readiness of younger persons to 
 treat lightly the fears of the old (charaeterizaton — a trait of 
 human nature). Second, it contrasts the father's lack of worry 
 with the grandfather's deep concern. Third, it rapidly unfolds 
 the situation (exposition), completing the first discovery of the 
 inciting impulse (S. S. M., 89:8). — 'The complication is now 
 revealed, so far as Whiteside is involved — his desire to stay with 
 the grand-daughter, against his desire to attend his son's wed- 
 ding. — ' Complication given weight and seriousness by means of 
 consequential exposition (S. S. M., 171 ff.; 231). — 'Intensifying 
 speech ; intensifies motive by consequential exposition ( S. S. M., 
 171-173, 231). — * Action advanced by this speech (see par. 11).
 
 In the Matter of Distance 49 
 
 get this boat you can't make Ned's wedding/ and he'd 
 never forgive you." You've delayed quite long enough 
 on that kid's account already." ^ And then to the 
 chauffeur: '' All right, William! " * 
 
 11. The powerful engine purred softly; away went the 
 car, with Mr. Malcom Whiteside lifting his hat and wav- 
 ing a hand ^ to the little group on the front porch. But 
 as the limousine swept from the flower-bordered drive into 
 the Avenue/ his gray head ^ was twisted about to catch a 
 last glimpse at that window with the down-drawn shades, 
 and again he was moving uneasily on the cushions and 
 looking very worried.* 
 
 12. " I hate to leave with Elizabeth ill as she is," he re- 
 marked again. 
 
 13. Mr. Whittleby laughed lightly. " Man, dear, that 
 precious infant isn't made of sugar or salt. A little rise in 
 temperature and a bit of a headache and the attendant 
 querulousness doesn't signify anything particular. I'll 
 warrant she'll be as good as new by tomorrow morning; 
 and even if she isn't, she'll have quite as good care if you 
 
 11. The action is rising through anticipatory suspense (cf. 
 anticipatory delay, S. S. M., 75). 
 
 * Amounts, indirectly, to class characterization, since it is be- 
 havior conformable to persons of the wealthy social class. — ^ Our 
 feeling of the environment of culture and wealth is preserved by 
 such passing introduction of suggestive detail. — ^ The first hint of 
 Whiteside's appearance. In a few phrases, set down your own 
 conception of his appearance. — * Emphasis on the complication ; 
 a literary " lest-we-forget " device. This and other phrases con- 
 tain mood hints (S. S. M., 257) ; cf. par. 12. 
 
 12-13. Largely intensifying in effect. — Is Whittleby a little in- 
 different in his attitude toward Whiteside? Tolerant? "Bossy?" 
 Cf. the characterizing passages involving him in pars. 9, 10, 16, 
 17, 20, 21, 24. Then^cf. par. 22.
 
 50 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 are on your way to Eiiiilaiul on the last boat that will get 
 you there in time for Ned's wedding as if you were right 
 •here at home with her." 
 
 14. Mr. Whiteside nodded his handsome ^ gray head. 
 
 15. *' Of course. Bob, of course," he said quickly/ but 
 he said it as if he did not in the least believe it. 
 
 16. There was silence for a time, during which the 
 streets shot past and Mr. Whiteside's face became appre- 
 hensive again. Bob Whittleby, noticing it, grinned. 
 
 17. " Say," he asked, " did you fuss over any of your 
 own like this? I'll bet you anything you didn't." 
 
 18. Mr. "Whiteside looked at his son-in-law with re- 
 proachful dignity.^ 
 
 19. " There weren't any of them like her," ^ he said 
 
 14. * Second item of personal appearance. Did you need to be 
 told that Whiteside is handsome, or had you guessed it? How? 
 
 15. ^ " Quickly " ; this adverb is what gives characterizing 
 effectiveness to the speech. 
 
 17. Characterizing; plausibh; younger folk are wont to chaff 
 (or to chide) grandparents for doting on their grandchildren. 
 The speech is concentrative, also. 
 
 18. Most grandfathers would do the same. Observe that White- 
 side and O'Brien are portrayed in this story as typical of all 
 grandfathers. Therefore, we have class characterization, with a 
 minimum of individual traits. Observe further that in this story 
 the class resemblance depends on a common human trait. Usually, 
 the class resemblance springs from some direct influence of occu- 
 pation, association, or long-accepted class standards. See S. S. M., 
 206-214. — ' Note the effectiveness of " reproachful dignity " in 
 hitting off Whiteside's attitude — another plausibility-touch like 
 that in par. 17. It characterizes by indicating (a) the person's 
 mood, (b) his manner in that mood, and (c) the behavior common 
 to many gi'andfathers in such a situation. 
 
 19. ' A neat piece of characterizing dialogue ; exactly what the 
 fond grandparent is wont to think, and also to say when he is 
 naive — as Whiteside is. Its unconscious trueness " to form "
 
 In the Mattee, of Distance 51 
 
 firmly. " She's so different from most children — so quaint 
 in her ideas and her mental processes." 
 
 20. Whittleby's grin broadened. 
 
 21. " Of course," was all he said. 
 
 22. Robert Whittleby was a very discerning as well 
 as a clean-cut normal sort of chap. 
 
 23. " Well, she is different," said her grandfather with 
 some heat. 
 
 24. But Whittleby's only answer was to pass over a 
 long cigar and to strike a match and hold it in obsequious 
 readiness. 
 
 makes it humorous; a competent actor speaking it on the stage, 
 would get a good laugh out of it surely. — The rest of the speech 
 is more individualized — represents Whiteside the individualized 
 grandfather. S. S. M., 217:4 (3) and (4). 
 
 20-21. These paragraphs manage to characterize "Whittleby fur- 
 ther, and at the same time to make his behavior and words amount 
 to amused comment on Whiteside. (Thus the author keeps him- 
 self out of the story.) They illustrate, too, how emotional appeal 
 (S. S.M., 63 ff.) can be made sure without any direct address 
 to the reader. What Whittleby does and says is just what the 
 reader is ready to do and say — to grin and remark : " Of course " 
 in good-humored irony. 
 
 22. Brief, direct interpretation of Whittleby by the author. 
 Observe, however, that it has a larger function in the story : it 
 amounts to further reinforcement of our estimate of Whiteside, 
 and is thus of the nature of intensifying comment. — Observe fur- 
 ther that but one (temporarily) dominant trait is emphasized in 
 characterizing Whiteside, but that several traits, none dominant, 
 are portrayed in Whittleby. Cf. S. S. M., 181 : 5; 207: E, F, G; 
 215:2 (first 5 sentences); 218 : A. The shorter the story, the 
 less opportunity there is to treat any but the dominant trait in 
 the leading person. Of the secondary person, Whittleby, we 
 are given nothing more than hints. 
 
 23-24. Climactic height of first movement of the rising action. 
 Note that the dialogue and action, to the very end, continue to 
 characterize.
 
 52 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 25. Even as the six-cvlindor and ultra-rxpcnsive limou- 
 sine was speeding doAni Beverly Avenue, Michael O'Brien, 
 accompanied by his daughter, ]\frs. Timothy Hennessey, 
 came out of the doorway of Number 46 West Cherry 
 Street. JMichael O'Brien's big frame ^ was almost pain- 
 fully arrayed ^ in clothes of a very obvious ne"v\mess.' Also 
 for once there was a stiff collar encircling his neck. He 
 carried a bulging suit-case and Mrs. Hennessey bore * a 
 bundle swathed in much brown paper and many, many 
 yards of stout twine. 
 
 25. Here begins the second movement of the rising action — the 
 third division of this story. Note the connective clause with 
 which it begins. — Observe how the opening (pars. 1-3), by taxing 
 a description of West Cherry Street in our mind, has cleared 
 the way for rapid action at the beginning of movement 3 (the 
 same is true of movement 2). — Observe also how the contrast 
 enforced in the opening is now recalled to our mind by repeat- 
 ing the names of the avenues and the street, and re-enumerating 
 a few typical details of the avenue environment ("six-cylinder, 
 ultra-expensive limousine," "speeding," "avenue"). — Note the 
 conciseness with which setting and preliminary characterization 
 are disposed of, to make way for action. 
 
 'Why is O'Brien's size mentioned? Whiteside's was not. Is 
 it because his size is involved in his appearance in the new suit ? — 
 * Why is the suit mentioned? Whiteside's was not. Does O'Brien 
 correspond, in the story, to a character-actor in a stage piece? Is 
 he a comedy chai'aeter? Does the "get-up" of a comic per- 
 sonage on the stage enter into the actor's comedy effect? — 'Is 
 there any characterizing effect in this detail and those associated 
 with it? What sort of men are "painfully arrayed" in clothes 
 of " very obvious newness " when they start out to have some 
 sort of a good time or vacation? How does "a very obvious 
 newness" show itself in ready-made clothes? Has this phrase, 
 then, picturing as well as characterizing power? — * Is there true 
 class characterization in this distribution of burdens? In the 
 brown-paper-and-twine-wrapt bundle? Are these items mentioned 
 for the same reason as the clothes?
 
 In the Matter of Distance 53 
 
 26. " We've no time to be losin', Father," said Mrs. 
 Hennessey, heading down West Cherry Street to the 
 Avenue beyond, along which the elevated trains sent up 
 their almost incessant clatter and roar. " The boat ^ I'aves 
 at tin sharp. We'd best be gettin' on. If there should 
 happen to be a block, now, or aught like that " 
 
 27. From somewhere above their heads came a series 
 of thin sneezes and a child's croupy cough. 
 
 26. The action of the second movement, or stage of rising ac- 
 tion, begins here. — This story is built on the parallel plan. O'Brien 
 balances Whiteside, Mrs. Hennessey balances Whittleby (S. S. M., 
 69, note), movement 1 parallels movement 2; there are two 
 children. Movements 3, 4, and 5 drop the secondary persons 
 (Whittleby and Mrs. Hennessey), and bring Whiteside and 
 O'Brien both into the same action ; but even there they remain 
 a balanced pair. Movement 2 discloses the complication as it 
 involves O'Brien. 
 
 ' " The boat." Why not " The White Star boat ? " Because 
 the skilled writer does not waste words to tell what the reader 
 instantly perceives for himself. Nothing weighs down and kills 
 lively action more than unnecessary explanation, even though it 
 be but one word long. — Study of this second movement is espe- 
 cially recommended to beginners. The unskilled story-teller would 
 probably begin in some such way as this : 
 
 Michael O'Brien was going to visit the " Ould Counthry." 
 It had been many years since he left there as a boy, and he 
 had never been back. He had wanted to go, but circumstances 
 would not permit him. But after lo ! these many years, he had 
 accumulated financial resources enough to make the trip, and 
 his son Timothy, the father of Michael's beloved grandson, had 
 added enough to his funds to enable him to travel in the second 
 cabin. He had written time and again to his friends in the 
 Emerald Isle that he was " coming back to Erin," and they 
 were all ready to give him a hearty welcome to the land of the 
 shamrock and harp. Now he had taken and paid for his pas- 
 sage, and was starting for the docks. He was goiisg on a White 
 Star Line boat. His daughter, Mrs, Hennessey, Tim's wife, 
 was with him.
 
 54 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 28. ^Michael O'Brien's wrinkled face suddenly twisted, 
 as if with physical pain, 
 
 29. " I dunno about goin' at all, at all, Kora," said 
 old Michael, suddenly stopping short, " wit' the wee felly 
 in the bad shape he is. I'd never forgive mesilf if " 
 
 30. " Aw, don't be foolish," said his daughter almost 
 sharply. " There's nothin' to be worritin' yersilf about. 
 Don't little Tiramy always sneeze and bark like that, do 
 he but get the wee fate av him wet be some av his own 
 foolishness strammin' through the puddles. He'll be suf- 
 ferin' no great har-rm be ut. L'ave him lay abed the 
 day and drink the hot drinks I'll be givin' him and I'll 
 warrant ye be to-morrer he'll be out lookin' for more av 
 thim puddles to stram through. Come on ! 'Tis a quarter 
 past nine now ! " 
 
 Now, such a telling of the facts would never and could never 
 " get over." Not only is it uninspired, it is crude in method. It 
 is nothing more than a rambling amplification of the plot abstract 
 (S. S. M., 76). The plot abstract is nothing but raw material for 
 the story. It has been put through some preliminary processes 
 of manufacture, but only those that adapt it to use as raw mate- 
 rial in the main process of the composition. Until this raw 
 material has been put into scenario fonn and then written out 
 into the fulfilled plot, it is a valueless product. 
 
 27-28. Cf. the closed window and Whiteside's uneasiness (pars. 
 7, 11). In each case, we have class characterization — sedulous 
 care tor the sick on the avenue, unintentional carelessness in 
 Cherry Street; frank, undisciplined revelation of emotion in 
 Michael, restrained behavior under emotion on the part of 
 Malcom. 
 
 30. This paragraph is to be cfd. with paragraph 10. Observe : 
 1. The impatience of both Nora and Whittleby, by her expressed 
 " almost sharply," by Whittleby more politely — as we should 
 expect from his different social standards. 2. The similarity of 
 their reasoning, and the dissimilarity of their language. 3. The 
 essential likeness of their point of view, corresponding to the 
 essential likeness in the point of view of O'Brien and Whiteside.
 
 In the Matter of Distance 55 
 
 31. Michael followed her reluctantly. He looked more 
 like a man going to his execution than one setting out on 
 a long anticipated pleasure jaunt. 
 
 32. " He's sech a foine, quare little felly," said 
 Michael. '^ If he should be tuk bad while I'm gone, I'd 
 nivir be forgivin' mesilf." 
 
 33. " Ye'd chuck up yer trip because av that bit av 
 a cold av his, I suppose," said Mrs. Hennessey almost 
 crossly as she quickened her steps. " Sure, ye could be 
 doin' a lot if he was sick and ye stayed at home, and 
 threw up yer passage ye've paid for — and Tim givin' ye 
 enough to go and come second cabin instead av in the 
 steerage ! ^ Even if the lad is sick, he'll get jest as good 
 care as if ye was here." 
 
 34. " Av coorse, av coorse," said old Michael, but he 
 said it as if he did not in the least believe it. 
 
 35. " I don't mind yer iver worritin' so much about 
 anny of yer own childer." 
 
 36. Michael shook his grizzled head. 
 
 37. " He's such a different wee felly from most av 
 'em," said he. " He's that longheaded and such quare 
 ideas for such a wee chap ! " 
 
 38. " Shure ! He's the sivinth wonder av the world," 
 said his daughter with a sidelong, sardonic grin at him. 
 
 31-42. Note the almost perfect parallel between pars. 31-42 and 
 pars. 11-24. Note especially the almost complete correspondence 
 between par. 14 and par. 36. and par. 15 and par. 34. Further ef. 
 par. 19 with 37, 20-22 with 38-39. " Handsome gray " is apt for 
 the man whose life has been easy ; " grizzled " fits the man of 
 labor and hard knocks. In this very human situation, the only 
 difference in their words is one of pronunciation; and in their 
 manner of speaking is no difference at all. — * (Par. 33). See 
 par. 10:3.—' (Par. 39). See par. 10:3.
 
 no ToDAv'tj Short Stouies Analyzed 
 
 39. '' ]>ut, bcavin be praised, wit' all bis great intel- 
 leck he's wan rare tough little kid. So don't ye worrit 
 yersilf no more. Go have ver foine trip like yc planned. 
 Think bow disappointed the Ilcavej's and the Shanghnes- 
 seys and the Finnigans would be if ye didn't come after 
 all the writin' ye've done to 'em." ^ 
 
 40. They bad reached the elevated station on the 
 Avenue. 
 
 41. " Hurry ! I hear a down train comin'," said she. 
 
 42. Old Michael was peering down "West Cherry Street, 
 and as he peered his face was working in very evident 
 distress. 
 
 43. On one of the decks of the Slavic is a dividing 
 rope. Forward of the rope the second cabin passengers 
 may disport themselves ; aft of it is given over to first- 
 class travelers. 
 
 44. On one side of that rope stood Michael O'Brien, 
 taking in the hustle and bustle of approaching sailing; 
 close by, on the other side of the rope, his elbows on the 
 rail, stood Malcom "Whiteside. 
 
 45. Mrs. Hennessey, having seen her father duly en- 
 sconced, had kissed him resoundingly, bidden him not 
 to worry, entrusted to him several scores of messages for 
 several scores of people in the old country, and taken her 
 departure. 
 
 46. Mr. Whittleby, having seen bis father-in-law 
 
 43-46. Third movement begins here. The two preceding move- 
 ments have introduced the two leading persons, characterized them 
 socially and — in their position as grandfathers — humanly, dis- 
 closed the complication, and carried the conflict forward rapidly. 
 The outcome of the struggle in these two parallel phases of the
 
 In the Matter of Distance 57 
 
 aboard, had warmly pressed his hand, bidden him not 
 worry, thrust upon hira a half-dozen boxes of his favorite 
 cigars, and taken his departure. 
 
 47. Sailing time was rapidly nearing. Mr. Whiteside, 
 chewing fiercely the end of the cigar in his mouth, looked 
 longingly at the crowded wharf. 
 
 48. Michael O'Brien, gripping tightly the rail, also 
 looked shoreward with troubled eyes. 
 
 49. A deep-toned whistle boomed out brayingly above 
 their heads. Michael O'Brien started violently. 
 
 50. "I can't be goin'; I cant; that's all there is to 
 
 crisis has been, the defeat of grandparental devotion by the allied 
 forces of the planned voyage and the pressure of the grand- 
 child's parent. — Observe again the swift compactness of the pas- 
 sage that gives the setting for the new movement. As in move- 
 ment 2, the stage is set in the opening paragraph. This setting, 
 with our knowledge of what has already taken place, gives us 
 a full understanding of the situation as it is now, and of the 
 two men who are in it. — Notice that the secondaiy facts — the 
 departure of Whittleby and Nora — are buried in the opening, 
 out of their chronological order and in an linemphatic position. 
 To test the soundness of the technique here, recast the opening, 
 introducing the facts in their chronological order. — Study the 
 subordination of ancillary fact in the opening of these move- 
 ments, referring to S. S. M., 153:4 and 165 : 21-23.— Observe 
 closely how the two separate lines of action — that involving 
 Whiteside and that involving O'Brien, are brought together and 
 combined. Is the motivating of the trip adequate? true-seeming? 
 Why is it unnecessary to tell more about the wedding and 
 O'Brien's visit home? Are they plausible without further treat- 
 ment? _ 
 
 47-48. Here the action is resumed. Observe here and in the rest 
 of the story how the two lines of action, involving Whiteside and 
 O'Brien respectively, are intertwined, yet managed so that we 
 are all the time aware of their being distinct. 
 
 50. This spontaneous cry of O'Brien's grandfather's-soul, and 
 his unconscious look of anguish, are perfectly natural — artistically
 
 58 Today's Siiokt Stokies Analyzed 
 
 it! " he inuttciTcl thickly. As he spoke he turned a dis- 
 traught face towards Mr. Whiteside. He had no inten- 
 tion of doing so. The action was purely the involuntary 
 one of a harassed mind. He simply looked ahout him at 
 random. It was merest chance that he turned to White- 
 side as he spoke. 
 
 51. " I beg your pardon ? " said Mr. Whiteside po- 
 litely, thinking ho had been addressed, and the bray of 
 the whistle drowning most of the words. 
 
 52. Michael O'Brien started. For the first time he 
 seemed aw-are of his neighbor's presence. He coughed in 
 embarrassment. 
 
 53. " I was talkin' to mesilf," said he, " but I was won- 
 derin' w^hether or not I had the nerve to go ashore. I've 
 a little grandson, the foinest little felly ye iver clapped 
 eyes on. He's sick. I've been plannin' this trip for years, 
 and if I go ashore I'll have to lose me passage, and belikcs 
 I'll nivir get another chance to go across. But I'd give 
 tin dollars if I had the nerve to bolt ashore right now." 
 
 plausible. Therefore, as they are what brings him and White- 
 side into comradeship, they constitute excellent motivation. — Are 
 the last four sentences psychological narration (S. S. M., 228), 
 or merely the author's full description of O'Brien's behavior? 
 Are they superfluous? If not, what is gained through them? 
 
 51. Note how in keeping with a ]\Ialeom Whiteside this is, as 
 par. 50 is in keeping with a Michael O'Brien. Herein we have 
 skillful preservation of manner and characteristic — the sustained 
 and consistent portrayal of definitely conceived character. Go 
 through the story, noting other instances of the same thing. 
 
 52. Characteristic behavior. 
 
 53. Observe the old fellow's burst of loquacity. Three things 
 unite to produce it : 1, the Irish nature, which frequently is 
 loquacious; 2, the old man's embarrassment; 3, his harrowed feel- 
 ings. Placing this outburst on his lips is good characterization, 
 and the outburst is well motivated in knowledge of human and 
 Irish nature.
 
 In the Matter of Distance 59 
 
 54. He seemed to feel he was speaking to a sympathetic 
 soul/ Nor was he wrong. Malcom Whiteside took a long 
 breath. 
 
 55. " My youngest son/' he explained quietly, " is 
 marrying an English girl. This is the last boat that will 
 get me over in time for the wedding. I have a little grand- 
 daughter. She too was ill when I left the house this morn- 
 ing. And I'd give a great deal if I had the nerve to go 
 ashore. My friend, we seem to be in the same fix. But 
 I imagine we'd better go on. Probably we've magnified 
 matters, anyway. No doubt both the children will be all 
 right. Have a cigar ! " ^ 
 
 56. He passed over a long, black, alluring weed from 
 his case. Old Michael took it, mumbled his thanks, bit 
 off a good third of it and held a sputtering match to the 
 wrong end.^ 
 
 57. " All the same I wisht I had the nerve to git off," 
 he said. 
 
 58. " So do I," agreed Whiteside. 
 
 54. ' Another indication that Whiteside is a gentleman in 
 spirit as well as in social position. We have felt this all along. 
 
 55. " Deep calleth unto deep " — the depths of O'Brien's human 
 trouble to the depths of Whiteside's. Probably no other theme 
 would have caused the reserved man of culture to open his affairs 
 in this way to a Michael O'Brien. But the one touch of human 
 nature makes them brothers in trouble. — ^ An act that confirms 
 the sympathy. They are on the same human footing now. 
 
 56. * Details that stand for Michael's troubled state of mind as 
 well as his embarrassment. No doubt, also, Mr. Whiteside's 
 readiness to notice him gives him a pleasure that adds to his 
 confusion. Try to realize the " business " that an actor taking 
 the part of O'Brien would put into his representation of the 
 Irishman's state of mind. 
 
 57-58. Unimportant if it were not that they prepare the way 
 for the entrance of the taxicab party into the motivation, by
 
 60 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 59. At that moment a taxi came speeding down the 
 wharf. Out of it tumbled a merry little group — an 
 elderly man, a youngish woman and two small children, 
 boy and girl. 
 
 60. There was a hurried round of embraces ; then the 
 elderly man caught up his bundle of rugs and stooped to 
 the two little upturned faces. 
 
 61. " Goo'-by, granper ! Goo'-by ! Goo'-by ! " they 
 chattered shrilly. 
 
 62. " My God ! " said Michael O'Brien. 
 
 63. Mr. Whiteside did not heed his cigar, which went 
 plopping overside. 
 
 64. ^' Suppose — suppose I shouldn't never see little 
 Timmy again," Michael almost whispered. 
 
 65. " My God ! " It was Wliiteside who said it this 
 time. 
 
 66. The whistle was braying again. There was a great 
 uproar on the wharf. Already they were getting the gang- 
 planks in. 
 
 67. Whiteside leaped nimbly across the dividing rope 
 and clutched Michael O'Brien by the arm. 
 
 68. " Come on ! " he cried. 
 
 69. " Hurry ! " yelled Michael, panting along in his 
 wake. 
 
 bring^ing our attention back to the struggle in the mind of the 
 two " granpers." 
 
 59-66. The decisive episode, or circumstance. See S. S. M., 
 (index), passim. Note how the "gi-anper's" good-by is managed 
 — so that it is certain to bring home to O'Brien and Whiteside the 
 poignancy of parting from their pets. 
 
 67-73. Decisive moment, pars. 67-68. Climactic height, pars. 
 67-73; see S. S. M., 74 :B; 168:26-27. The outcome (S. S.M., 
 115-117) is included in the grand climax.
 
 In the Matter of Distance 61 
 
 YO. Down the last gang-plank they tumbled. White- 
 side hailed a taxieab. 
 
 71. " Where do you want to go ? " he barked at 
 Michael. Michael gave him the address. 
 
 72. Whiteside turned to the chauffeur. 
 
 73. " Forty-six West Cherry Street, first ; then take 
 me out to 684 Beverly Avenue. Let her out! I'll stand 
 for your fine if you're pinched ! " 
 
 74. A six-cylinder, ultra-expensive limousine swung 
 into West Cherry Street. It stopped at number 46. 
 Michael O'Brien, sitting on the doorstep, looked up. Out 
 of the limousine was thrust a very handsome gray head. 
 The face beneath the gray hair was a trifle sheepish. 
 
 75. " Say," said Malcom Whiteside, " how did you 
 find your kid ? " 
 
 76. Michael smiled foolishly and licked his lips with 
 his tongue. 
 
 77. " He w'ere up the street, whalin' sin outer a Italian 
 kid that had sarsed him," he confessed. " And the little 
 girl ? " he inquired politely. 
 
 78. " She'd grown tired of being kept abed. She'd got 
 up and run away. They were just bringing her back when 
 I arrived." 
 
 79. There was an understanding silence. They grinned 
 at each other. 
 
 80. " I think w^e need a bit of stimulant," Whiteside 
 invited. " Get in ! " 
 
 74-82. Here begins movement 4. This, with the closing para- 
 graph, constitutes the separate ending (S. S. M., 169-174), (More 
 loosely, these paragraphs can be termed falling action.) — In the 
 present ending, we have combined the two sorts of ending de-
 
 62 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 81. " I'm wid yez there, sor, thougli I guess it's on the 
 two av us," said Michael O'Brien, entering the limousine. 
 
 82. It is something like a mile and a half from West 
 Cherry Street to Beverly Avenue, as the crow flies. Fig- 
 uring another way, the distance is even less. 
 
 scribed in S. S. M., 173 : 6. The closing paragraph is interpre- 
 tive comment. The other paragraphs contain a revelation of the 
 final results of the outcome : these were, that after giving up 
 their trip, the grandfathers found the youngsters perfectly safe 
 — out, indeed, on mischief bent. — The ending here justifies itself 
 for several reasons: (1) It presents as a humor-intensifying epi- 
 sode, the facts necessary to complete revelation of the outcome, 
 with its anti-climax. (2) It emphasizes the fact that the grand- 
 fathers were moved by instinct, or emotional impulse, not by 
 reason, thus again concentrating attention on the common human 
 nature displayed by them — i.e., on the theme. See S. S. M., 
 208 :G. (3) It satisfies a certain interest that we have come 
 to feel in the children (this hints anew the truth of the human 
 nature trait presented by the author, since it proves that we too 
 feel its emotional appeal). (4) It intensifies our sense of the 
 " humanness " of the two men, showing them continuing (tem- 
 porarily, at least) in their fellowship after the crisis that brought 
 them together is past. The barriers of rank and station are 
 down. This impression is further increased by the hint of a 
 taste in common (they go to take a drink), and by the sense of 
 humor they reveal in recognizing the element of ridiculousness in 
 their recent conduct. — As to the sufficiency of the motivation, 
 we may now cf . S. S. M., 207 : E.
 
 SOME BASIC PEINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED BY 
 THE FOREGOING STORY 
 
 1. The conte is a drama in narrative (S. S. M., sec. 3). 
 — this story could be acted as a dialogue-play in four 
 scenes. 
 
 2. The plot of the conte must he dramatic (S. S. M., 
 sec. 4). — The plot is adequately motivated throughout, as 
 required by the principle stated in S. S. M., 19 : 6. 
 
 3. The short story tends to he catastrophic in form; 
 i.e., to meet the requirements stated in S. S. M., 16:2 and 
 17:5. 
 
 4. Singleness of effect is necessary to the short story; 
 see S. S. M,, 19 : 1-3. This story has a single, unified 
 effect : it makes us see that Beverly Avenue (representing 
 wealth and culture) is no different from West Cherry 
 Street (representing the " masses ") in the trait of grand- 
 fatherly doting on the grandchild. 
 
 5. Atmosphere is the result of subjective coloring — the 
 flavor of luell-blended literary ingredients (S. S. M., 
 54-60) . — This story has the flavoring of a genial criticism 
 upon life seen in the human nature of grandfathers ; and 
 it is tinted — not highly colored — subjectively with seri- 
 ousness and with humor. This is the result of its report- 
 ing accurately (S. S. M., 60: 13) from the viewpoint of a 
 sympathetic observer (the author). 
 
 63
 
 A RAGTIME LADY 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. In forming an estimate of this story, include the 
 ideas of these passages from S. S. M., among those con- 
 sidered : 
 
 5:11; G: 14-16; 13:1; lG:2-3; 27:4; 32:15; 35:21; 
 51:16; 55:4-6; 64:15-17; 37:3-4; 54:1; 48:12; 
 181:5, 10-14. 
 
 2. The elements of character, theme, plot, and atmos- 
 phere are so blended in this story as to make classification 
 difficult — and unnecessary. That the authors did not 
 begin from a conception of atmosj^here seems reasonably 
 certain. But the origin of the story may have been either 
 a plot, a character, or a theme conception (S. S. M., 36 : 22 ; 
 76: A, B; 217:4). By a process of elimination we may 
 possibly exclude theme as the source of the story, because 
 the theme, although clearly present, is not an emphasized 
 theme ; it is present in the form of a motif rather than a 
 propositioii (S. S. M., 96:10, and "The Defective")- 
 To determine between plot and character as the first source 
 of the conception, however, is harder. The central person 
 (Martha) is conceived not only clearly and completely, 
 but also with sympathy and a strong liking. The idea of 
 such a person, dwelling in an author's mind, might easily 
 result in his conceiving a plot to exhibit the character. 
 On the other hand, the story might readily grow up from 
 putting together conceptions of plot incidents and creating 
 a person to fit the resultant plot. Finally, it is anything 
 
 64
 
 A Ragtime Lady 65 
 
 but impossible that the original conception was that of a 
 girl like Martha thrown into an environment of country 
 and small-town life, the plot being built up to fit and il- 
 lustrate this situation. 
 
 3. The difference between setting and environment 
 (S. S. M., 59 ff.) can be observed here. The element of 
 environment is strong, not only in the rising action but in 
 the expository passages as well, and enters into the com- 
 plication and its solution. Setting is less prominent ; it 
 serves mainly as a device for presenting character and 
 mood (pars. 15-21) and as a background for the same ele- 
 ments (pars. 22-35). 
 
 4. Subjective coloring produced by the mood and per- 
 sonality of the authors is found in this story (S. S. M., 
 62 ff., 11-12, 14-17). It can be felt throughout the dia- 
 logue and descriptive passages, and definitely located 
 sometimes in single words or phrases of the authors' own 
 (as in pars. 9-10). The student will find profit in trying 
 to locate this quality wherever it is, and also in attempt- 
 ing, in a paragraph or two of direct exposition, to char- 
 acterize the authors — that is, to describe or explain the 
 qualities of the personality responsible for the creation of 
 the story. 
 
 5. The story consists mainly of dialogue. Mark the 
 parts that consist neither of dialogue nor of characteriza- 
 tions of the speech of the persons, and note the amount of 
 marked matter. What part of it is purely narrative in 
 function ? What part is concerned with necessary descrip- 
 tion — setting, persons, etc. ? What part is the expression 
 of personal views or feelings ? I^ote all these proportions 
 carefully. Note also the compactness and brevity of the 
 ancillary passages, such as settings, transitions, situation
 
 66 Today's Shokt Stories Anat.yzep 
 
 hiuts, and the like; e.g., pars. 0-10, 1.5-16, 21, 22-23, 24, 
 173. For its use of dialogue, study it in comparison with 
 S. S. M., 229-249. 
 
 6. The various means of characterization can be 
 profitably studied in this story. See S. S. M., 161-165; 
 182-184; 206-214; 214-219; 222-228; 234-240. Prob- 
 ably this study can be carried on best by taking one per- 
 son at a time. Note every phrase and passage that helps 
 to portray this person's character, and determine how and 
 why it has this effect. Remember that, though this story 
 is alive with action, it is also a story of character portrayal, 
 with a strong element of character contrast. 
 
 7. Psychological situation is present. The story is not 
 a psychological conte, but by a redistribution of emphasis 
 it could be made one. A reference to S. S. M., 50: 15 is 
 worth while. 
 
 8. Consequential exposition (S. S. M., 171-173) is not 
 emphasized enough at one point. Except by our own in- 
 sight, we are not led to realize the full significance to 
 Martha of her return to the old environment — a probable 
 deterioration in her own character (see comment on par. 
 154). This is a blemish rather than a structural fault — 
 an obscurity, tending to lessen the strength of the motiva- 
 tion and weaken the sense of tragic crisis. The general 
 excellence of the story, however, helps to obscure the pres- 
 ence of the blemish. A few words — probably in some 
 speech of Martha's — would have directed our attention 
 certainly to this intensifying element of the crisis. 
 
 9. As a study of small community persons and char- 
 acter, cf. this story with "The Last Rose " and " Little 
 Sunbeam," and to some extent with " The Defective."
 
 A EAGTIME LADY 
 
 By Eugene Manlove Rhodes and Laurence Yates 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Authors from " The 
 
 Saturday Evening Post" for July 26, 1913 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1913) 
 
 1. " Sally Menlick ? Gone back to Shoetown, I hope ! " 
 A pinched and virtuous nostril could not forbear a sniff. 
 " Good riddance ! No more such girls in my dining 
 room ! " 
 
 2. " Yes — I can quite understand that," said Martha. 
 
 3. She accompanied the sympathetic tone with a dis- 
 creet but slow and reflective glance; so that the ruffled 
 mistress of the Halliday Hotel was suddenly conscious of 
 sallow cheeks, thinning hair and other thinness. 
 
 1-7. These paragraphs are the main part of the opening 
 (S. S. M., 122-150). For the dialogue opening, cf. S. S. M., 139 : 
 5-6; for dialogue in detail, S. S. M., 229-249.— Observe the ade- 
 quacy of the landlady picture that is effected by pars. 1-5; the 
 swift, effective characterization of pars. 1-7. Study the qualifying 
 words, especially the adjectives, through which much of this effect 
 (outside the dialogue) is wrought. — Does the dialogue here amount 
 to action, oris it activity only (S. S. M., 37:4; 136:1; 140:7-8)? 
 — Observe that, although the landlady is more active than Martha, 
 and receives as much notice from the author, we recognize Martha 
 at once as the more important person. How much of this effect 
 is owed to the fact that Martha is named outright, but the land- 
 lady merely described? Is any part of it owed to the fact that 
 the landlady is the object of Martha's attention? How much 
 from her being a foil to the girl (S. S. M., 69, n.) ?— How many 
 of the principal actors are brought to our attention in this opea- 
 
 07
 
 68 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 4. "Hoity-toity! And who arc you, you bareheaded 
 baggage? " A mouth to neighbor the virtuous nose tight- 
 ened primly to a new buttonhole. 
 
 5. ''Must you know that — really?" Martha turned 
 dowTi the steps with a smile so sweetly serene that mere 
 words were superfluous. 
 
 6. " Oho ! You're her sister, I guess ! Just as brassy 
 as she was ! Pretendin' her heart was bad, and writing 
 home — the girls said — that the work was too hard ! I told 
 her she needn't think she could gad the streets half the 
 night and mope round all day — impudent minx ! " 
 
 7. The last words were an interruption of her own ad- 
 dressed to a Parthian foe who, most unfairly, would not 
 look back. The exasperated lady slammed the door. Her 
 complexion w^as bettered. 
 
 8. " Xow isn't that just like Sally ! Here I do a help- 
 ful Henriette — out carfare ; miss the ball game . Oh, 
 
 you Biff ! Xever again ! Xow what will little Miss Time- 
 killer do with herself in this jay-town till traintime? " 
 
 iug? How many secondary persons? At what points are the 
 other main persons first brought in? Are any introduced beyond 
 the middle of the story (the principle stated in S. S. M., 167: 24, 
 about atmosphere, is equally applicable to incident and persons) ? 
 — Observe the tone of Martha's speech and behavior; it is char- 
 acteristic, and it strikes a note of the tonal chord of the story. 
 The landlady strikes another note in this chord; buoyant inde- 
 pendence and understanding humanism are counterpointed with 
 sourness, suspicion, and little-mindedness throughout the story. 
 This contrast is part of the motif (S. S. M., 96 : 10). On keynote 
 see S. S. M., 127 : 10. In this story, much of the tone is the 
 result of character, and of action that conforms to character. 
 
 8-10. Properly managed, direct comment on man and life is 
 not opposed to the nature of the short story. Observe that here 
 the tone as well as the substance of the comment is in agi'eemeat
 
 A Ragtime Lady 69 
 
 9. What little Miss Timekiller did was strikingly hu- 
 man — or, to be accurate, feminine. It is significant that 
 few married men believe the spiteful story that Eve 
 brought all our miseries upon us for an apple. An apple 
 — that common and useful thing! — would that have 
 tempted Eve ? It was an apple blossom ! 
 
 10. Needless dazzles from front windows : needful 
 keeps to the back shelves. In the window of the Little 
 Shop a rose-colored bandeau headed an ambuscade of love- 
 liness. Martha fell at the first fire. That lovely silky- 
 shiny should be hers against the next Casino dance of the 
 Time-Recorder boys or the Dennison Shoe. 
 
 11. As she held the bandeau against her hair before an 
 enraptured mirror, she became suddenly, stabbingly aware 
 that no wristbag dangled or swung, or in any-other-soever- 
 wise appertained to either mirrored wrist. It had always 
 been an absent-minded bag and this time had stupidly 
 failed to leave the train, keeping both money and return 
 
 with situation and character; hence it does not seem to be lugged 
 in, but actually to " belong." — The last sentence of par. 10 com- 
 pletes the placing of Martha socially — a working-girl of the shoe- 
 factory grade. 
 
 11-14. As an example of compression, the first fourteen para- 
 graphs are worth studying. A passage-at-words, characterization 
 of a woman, part characterization of the heroine; an explanation 
 of her trip and its uselessness, suggestion of the character of her 
 sister (motivation of later situation), and precipitating incident 
 in the discovery of the loss of her wristbag — all this is here, 
 besides two incidents (the interview and the bandeau-shopping) 
 developed with the effect of complete fullness. — Note the gener- 
 ating circumstance and the easy disclosure of it (par. 11). Note 
 also the self-assurance indicated by pars. 12-14; this will stand 
 in contrast with mental turmoil later on. Study " caressing " ; 
 what does it suggest about Martha besides her disappointment at 
 not getting the bandeau (lightly pathetic) ? On inciting impulse
 
 70 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ticket to Dennison, and Icaviiiii' bcr i)t'imiless in a strange 
 town, where she had neither friend nor friend's friend ! 
 She turned her head to observe the effect in profile and 
 cooed frank admiration. Then, with a weighty, judicial 
 air: 
 
 12. " You haven't this in a delicate pink, have you ? " 
 
 13. " They are wearing bright colors this season," said 
 the little shopkeeper reassuringly. 
 
 14. " Um-m-m — yes." The girl quirked a red and 
 critical under lip. " It is pretty, isn't it ? But I'll look 
 round a little, I guess. Thank you ! " She went out with 
 a caressing backward glance. 
 
 15. Vesper Courthouse fronts Vesper Bridge. Whether 
 the courthouse is more unsightly than expensive is un- 
 
 and generating circumstance, see S. S. M., 85 ff. This story has 
 a preUminary complication and a preliminary generating circum- 
 stance — the problem, how Martha is to get out of the difficulty. 
 which has been revealed to us by the discovery of the loss of 
 the bag. This part, however, is merely machinery to bring on 
 the real complication. This lies in the opposing forces of 
 Martha's family and personal past, her character, temperament, 
 tastes, and manners, — all her experience and outlook on life — 
 and the essentially different conditions of life, manners, and 
 social outlook, and standards, in the new environment. This 
 struggle in turn is precipitated by the love that springs up 
 between Martha and Coburn, and the love-entanglement is the 
 natural consequence of the wristbag circumstance and the result- 
 ing meeting. In these passages we have excellent choice and 
 management of plot-incident (S. S. M., 107 ff.). One of the char- 
 acteristics especially belonging to Mr. Rhodes' fiction is, a choice 
 of unhackneyed yet perfectly, plausible incidents through which 
 to develop his action. (Mr. Yates' incident shows a like prefer- 
 ence, but coupled with a fondness for realistic character and 
 local-color portrayal that produces a difference of element in 
 the romantic tone.) 
 
 15-16. Note the effect of local-color and how it is secured. The
 
 A Ragtime Lady 71 
 
 ascertained. After a conscious v^iew of that massed ugliness 
 no one has had the heart to go into details of cost. 
 
 16. Riverward from those mnley towers, in a green 
 park shaded about by elm and maple, a granite soldier 
 looks southward to far battlefields. oSTo stiff fighting 
 machine; this was the fighting man — the citizen soldier; 
 careless ; confident ; leaning at ease on his long rifle ; a 
 lean, strong face, firm-mouthed and watchful. We are glad 
 for the strong stone soldier. Perhaps he is none the less ef- 
 fective against a background of Vesper Courthouse. We 
 are a venal nation ; but we build no statues to contractors. 
 
 17. '' And Dennison twenty miles away — almost," said 
 Martha, with a whimsical eye for the granite soldier, high 
 on his four-square shaft. " Tell my troubles to a police- 
 man ? Get sent home by express and a column in the 
 Vesper Bell ? Not on your linotype ! I'd rather tell 'em 
 
 Vesper; the courthouse, ugly and expensive; the common or 
 " square," with the statue — these are all suggestive of the Ameri- 
 can town that is something more than a village and much less 
 than a city. Observe the limited number of details. Essential 
 characteristics of the American town in any section — north, south, 
 east, or west — are given; too many details would have tended to 
 localize the story more dehnitely than is desirable — so that the 
 reader would be less inclined to realize its action iu his own 
 environment. Stories in which the action is at bottom that of 
 the inner life rather than of the outer, are sometimes strengthened 
 by the use of a setting general enough to permit the reader to 
 localize the story in his own environment. The present story is 
 a stoi-y of inner character translating itself into outward action. 
 — Note how the last three sentences of par. 16 are made to carry 
 comment on our national ideals. — 
 
 17-21. Mood conveyed in monologue by the actor. Note the 
 pleasing effect of the fanciful conception in this full-of-life girl 
 who uses slang. Here is the first obvious indication that there are 
 depths of imagination, sound romance, and feeling beneath the 
 flippant surface and ready self-reliance. The act of par. 20 is
 
 72 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 to you, soldiiT, if you have tlic time." She saw that the 
 stone soldier was listening; he turned his head ever so 
 slightly as he peered through the green arches. 
 
 18. "Know what I'm going to do? Walk— that's 
 what — just like a boy! Bing! " She set her white teeth 
 together with a click. " Now let's check up. You keep 
 count on your fingers. Loss first : One brown suede bag 
 to go with the tan challis — my best and other dress. 
 Three-twenty-five in real money — the frugal savings of a 
 lifetime. One rabbit's foot that didn't work. My ticket 
 to Dennison. One pair of ninety-eight-cent shoes on the 
 blink; my birthday socks, ditto; one pair of heels, ditto 
 and blistered. Credit : one whopping big adventure. Me 
 for the marathon ! " 
 
 19. She sprang np, but wheeled, stiffening, and brought 
 her hand to salute with a pretty and unexpected diffidence. 
 
 20. ''' Good-by, soldier ! And — thank you, you know! " 
 
 21. She swung out across Vesper Bridge in the low 
 sun, her resolute little mouth turned up at the corners. 
 
 eharminol}' naive and tender. — With par. 21 ends the openina:; see 
 S. S. M., 122-129, 13G-142. These paragraphs have : 1. Intro- 
 duced the leading person. 2. Characterized her in several impor- 
 tant matters ; so that much of the remaining characterization will 
 merely amplify this outline. 3. Caught interest by immediately 
 employing activity. 4. Begun the action (1) by showing a natural 
 reason why the actor should be in the present locale, and (2) by 
 introducing a plausible pre-eomplieation (wristbag) to bring on 
 the conditions that produce the main complication. 5. Struck the 
 keynote. The tone of the story will largely be that of frank, gen- 
 erous unconventionality surrounded by mean suspicion and stupid 
 dullness, and of unselfish though independent character in con- 
 trast with selfishness and hypocritical morality. 6. Presented 
 some exposition — indicated Martha's industrial and social status, 
 her temperament (and something of her human depths), and the 
 preliminary events out of which the action is to grow.
 
 A Ragtime Lady 73 
 
 22. A gray ribbon of road stretched on and on into the 
 luminous dusk. The dust of its groaning, ground and 
 harried by swift wheels, lay thick and powdery ; the girl 
 shunned the beaten track. Bareheaded, all in white — 
 even to stockings and canvas shoes — she merged with the 
 pulsing night, swinging along with boyish vigor. Low 
 above the meadows the fireflies glowed and danced ; over- 
 head the stars swam in haze, dim reflections of these earth- 
 born myriads. Afar off a whippoorwill wailed mourn- 
 fully. From beyond the road fence came the harsh tonk 
 of a cowbell, and nearer the soft gurgle of a sunken brook. 
 
 23. Eeckless, carefree, star-mad, obsessed with youth, 
 the girl sang, against the loneliness of the unhoused way : 
 
 *' Fiddle up! Fiddle up! on your violin! 
 Lay right on it; i-est your chin upon it — 
 Doggone, you better begin '"'' 
 
 24. Enormous and malignant eyes blinked over a dis- 
 tant swell ; the melody snapped off. The sinister eyes 
 dipped downward, long quivering bars of white light rend- 
 ing the darkness. They flashed near, dropped from sight 
 in a little hollow and swooped up, the cut-out motor bark- 
 ing staccato. The girl drew aside — the white glare beat 
 upon her. 
 
 22-23. Here begins the first movement proper. On the placing 
 of descriptive matter in the position here given it (par. 22), see 
 S. S. M., 165-167. Analyze the paragraphs for their color, light, 
 motion, sound, and mood qualities, and the terms that produce 
 them. 
 
 24-28 (31). Is this plot incident or amplifying incident 
 (S. S. M., 107 ff.) ? Does it, with pars. 29-33, serve a purpose in 
 giving the impression of elapsed time? That is, if pars. 21-33 
 were dropped out, would the young man in the wagon seem to be
 
 Vi Today's Short Stortks Anat.yzed 
 
 25. There was but one man iu the Imgc hooded car. 
 As it roared by a wanton voice floated back : 
 
 26. " Oh, you Bright Eyes ! You look good to muh ! " 
 
 27. "Lobster!" 
 
 28. The word was a hissing bolt. The worst thing 
 about profanity is its iiselessness. 
 
 29. A cloud of dust rolled back, choking — powdered 
 the white gown to a dull gray. Turning resentfully, the 
 girl saw the lights of a second car beyond the first — a car 
 coming from Vesper. A hundred yards back she would 
 have hailed this homeward car to demand a lift for cause ; 
 but that wanton voice echoed insolently to her ear. 
 
 30. " Guess I'll stick to the walking, soldier," she said 
 aloud. 
 
 31. The cars, two hundred yards apart, fused head- 
 lights. In the white-lit space between, gleaming black, 
 clear-cut, hung a team of horses, a plunging wagon, a man 
 braced against the reins. A leaping blackness blotted out 
 the driver as the off horse stood straight up, looming mon- 
 strous in the double light. 
 
 32. The cars throbbed on, passed each other ; the lunging 
 horses were swallowed up in darkness. Martha scaled 
 the high bank beyond the ditch— -that team might be run- 
 ning away. When the eastward car shot past she heard 
 the whimper of a fretting child, caught the outline of a 
 woman's hat. 
 
 33. " There ! " she said. " Only for that fresh gink 
 I'd have got a ride. Oh, well! " 
 
 rushed into the story just because the author needed him? Now, 
 he seems to enter, quite naturally, as one of the numerous travelers 
 along this road. Obsei've the touch of contrast between him and 
 the "Lobster!"
 
 A Ragtime Lady 75 
 
 34. She kept to the grassy bank; the gay refrain lilted 
 to her lips : 
 
 " Hurrij up! Hurry up! with your violin! 
 Make it sooner — don't you stop to tune 'er, 
 Fid — fid — fid — fddle in the middle 
 Of your ragtime violin! " 
 
 35. Quick hoofs plumped in the dust, drew even, held 
 up sharply. 
 
 36. " Hey, ghost ! Want to ride and rest your wings ? " 
 
 37. " Won't I, just ? " said Martha, for the voice was 
 a good voice. She fluttered down from the bank. " Nix 
 on that Sir Walter thing! You hold the jumping-jack 
 horse — I'll get in. . . . Home, coachman ! " 
 
 38. " I don't believe you're a ghost at all," said the 
 voice, doubtful and rather aggrieved. " You make the 
 springs creak." 
 
 39. " Hundred and thirty-eight in the shade," said 
 Martha complacently. 
 
 40. " Well, I'm going to look, anyway. You hold these 
 reins." 
 
 41. A match grated and flamed. She was a tall girl, 
 but she had to look up, which she did with admirable com- 
 posure. 
 
 35-56. With par. 35 comes the second generating circumstance 
 (cf. pars. 11-14) — that of the action proper. — In this and the fol- 
 lowing paragraph are good instances of distributed description. — 
 The conception of the character of each of these two persons will 
 repay study. In what essential qualities are the two alike? What 
 is it in their temperament and nature that causes them at once 
 to take this attitude of good-fellowship toward each other? 
 What fundamental quality is it that prevents this byplay of per-
 
 7G Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 42. She saw a wt'll-sliaped head, rather small for the 
 broad shoulders ; blue eyes, at once quizzical and puzzled ; 
 good cars and mouth ; a puggy and much-freckled nose ; and 
 dark auburn hair, curling willfully despite its shortness. 
 The match nipped his fingers. 
 
 43. ''Ouch! — and so forth!" he remarked in some 
 haste, and added gloomily : " Girl — shucks ! " Then he 
 sighed. 
 
 44. " Ever try cold cream ? " said Martha sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 45. In the starlight she saw his hands rub the freckled 
 nose thoughtfully. He took the reins from her. 
 
 46. " Cold cream won't do freckles any good — they just 
 won't spread and I can't make 'em," he answered dis- 
 mally. " But even these few are some help." He sighed 
 again. 
 
 47. Martha required a little time to digest this. 
 
 48. " Oh, I see ! The girls persecute you, poor dear I 
 Do they call you Curly ? You ought to keep a dog." 
 
 49. " No use — they poison him ! " said the disconsolate 
 voice. " This fatal gift of beauty — " With a manly 
 effort he fought his emotion down and began anew : 
 " Smooth, oval face " 
 
 50. " Smooth, oval fiddlestick ! Why, your face is as 
 round as an apple." 
 
 sonal comment in these paragraphs from striking the reader as 
 mere raw and vulgar flirtation? Go back to the beginning and 
 examine all the passages that help to characterize Martha (includ- 
 ing pars. 24-28) ; notwithstanding her slang, is she anything but 
 a modest self-respecting, sensitive, and refined girl? Cf. S. S. M., 
 217:4; 209-212; 214, end of par. 7; 227:14^ 51:16. Observe 
 then that scarcely a word of direct interpretive matter has been 
 employed; the character has been indicated entirely through act
 
 A Ragtime Lady 77 
 
 51. " Yours " said Curly, undisturbed. He went 
 
 on in a dreamy monotone : " Complexion good, but dusty 
 — a little too white — looks like the tired kind of white ; 
 ripping hair — also rippling — brown and heaps of it — 
 blacky-brown ; a ki — competent mouth and chin ; dark eye- 
 brows — passable ! " 
 
 52. " My eyelashes are considered rather good. Did 
 you notice them ? " said Martha anxiously. 
 
 53. " Lashes ; big eyes, wide apart, golden brown. Why 
 are the little skipping lights ? " 
 
 54. " Meek eyes — like a trained seal," said Martha in 
 lieu of answer. 
 
 55. " Meek in appearance, but with little skipping 
 lights, unexplained; nose unbroken. Girl from the sum- 
 mer camp, probably. Bicycle smashed — something like 
 that." 
 
 56. "Wrong number! Come down to the footlights, 
 marquis, and hear my strange story while the orchestra 
 plays the Suwanee River, all shivery-quivery-quavery ! " 
 
 57. " To Dennison ? At night ? " interrupted the 
 marquis when the strange story had got so far. " Well, 
 you just nicely won't ! " 
 
 and speech. — Consider further in this connection that the lan- 
 guage of Martha would usually tend to create an atmosphere 
 rather coarse or vulgar; but here the atmosphere material is 
 found so largely in the characterizing facts that the element of 
 coai'seness is missing — showing that dialect, which is accidental, 
 is not a certain indicator of character, which is essential. That 
 is, dialect is an intensifying or mdividualizing device; in our 
 story, it is part also of the social exposition (it suggests the 
 extraneous social status of the person). 
 
 57. An inexperienced writer would quite likely have made 
 Martha actually recount the facts anew — a deadly mistake.
 
 78 Today's Short Stories Axalyzed 
 
 58. '' Oh, tell that to the sheltered-life dames ! " she 
 scoffed. " God can take care of them and I'll take care of 
 myself. I'm a working girl — a factory girl." 
 
 59. " You're a girl," corrected the unmoved marquis, 
 " and you're going straight home with me — to my aunt." 
 
 GO. " I've already been called a bareheaded baggage 
 once today," said Martha with spirit. " That welcome on 
 the mat — why, you poor ninny, no nephew's aunt would 
 mean that for me ! How stupid men are ! " 
 
 61. " Eedheaded nephew's aunts are different," ex- 
 plained Curly. 
 
 62. " Oh, I'm going on to Dennison. I'll be all right. 
 Where's the harm ? Why, I dance twenty-two miles every 
 Saturday night. This little walk can't feaze me. Honest, 
 curlyhead, I couldn't do it. I'm scared stiff of aunts, even 
 when they belong to red-headed nephews." 
 
 63. " So that's settled," said the placid driver. " You 
 go home with me. We quit the river road just beyond 
 here. About half past nine we do a little experiment with 
 cold beef, bread, milk, strawberries, cream " 
 
 58. Not irreverent, but a fine flash of characterization — an 
 exploding flash-light of class feeling. (Observe now, too, that in 
 pars. 35-56 part of the character-conception is based on class traits 
 — the natural readiness of young i^eople of the industrial class 
 rather than the " polite " circles, to meet each other on a frankly 
 personal level. Certain ranks of society shun this attitude. It 
 is a matter, therefore, partly of class standards. See S. S. M., 
 209-211.) 
 
 61. First hint of the aunt's character. It is direct assertion, 
 but kept from appearing so by being put in the mouth of a person 
 in the story (S.S.M., 212-214). 
 
 62. A new element in Martha's character — shrinking from 
 unsympathetic criticism, even though, as we have seen, she is not 
 afraid to be independent. Another indication that she is a girl 
 of sensitive feelings. For others, see pars. 17, 20, 30, 33.
 
 A Eagtime Lady 79 
 
 64. Martha caught his coatsleeve with both hands and 
 looked at him earnestly. 
 
 65. " Oh, say those heavenly words again ! " she begged. 
 " Goodness, Agnes ! I'm that hungTy I could eat patent 
 food ! " 
 
 66. It is odd how one things brings on another. The 
 horses quickened their pace as the turn of road and con- 
 versation reminded them of mangers; the ringing hoofs 
 beat to strong cadence; and Curly joined in the merry 
 stave : 
 
 " Somebody s hat am a-Jiangin on the rack where my hat 
 used to he; 
 Somebody's face am a-fiirtim with a fork that oughta he 
 a-feedin' me." 
 
 II. 
 
 67. " I might stay for a stop-gap," said Martha doubt- 
 fully. " But there's three things I don't like to do — 
 churn, turn the grindstone, and work. Only for that " 
 
 68. A flame-colored sun peered over a rim of hill. 
 Martha fluttered with excitement. " Oh, isn't he early ? 
 
 67. Second movement begins. Observe the immediate opening, 
 with distributed setting as the action proceeds. The first plot inci- 
 dent of this movement continues to par. 83. 
 
 68. Characterization that helps toward a satisfying outcome. A 
 natural question for the thinking reader to ask about the pos- 
 sible match between Martha and Coburn is, will this girl, from 
 the gayeties (such as they are) and environment of the shoe- 
 manufacturing town, make Coburn happy or be happy herself 
 on the farm. This paragraph partly removes our doubt. See
 
 80 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Did you sec that ? lie just jumped up and shook himself! 
 This beats fireworks ! Does it happen often ? " 
 
 69. " About this time every morning — except legal 
 holidays. And if you stay," said Aunt Harry dryly, 
 " I will nuikc it a point to see that you don't miss 
 a performance. You don't get up early at Denni- 
 son?" 
 
 70. "' When I worked in the factory I had just time 
 before seven to breakfast on a few kind words and an 
 orange ; when I sang for the movies I bounced up at 
 eleven ; and when I worked at the hotel I didn't go to bed 
 at all." 
 
 71. " Well, make up your mind," said Aunt Harry 
 over a clatter of dishes. " Coburn has to meet the ten- 
 thirty train. You can go with him or you can send for 
 your clothes." 
 
 72. " Let's see — this is Saturday. If I do a go for 
 Dennison I get to see the double-header this afternoon; 
 but I'd like to stay here, at that. It's all new stuff to me." 
 
 73. '' Maybe you'd think housework beneath your dig- 
 nity ? " 
 
 74. '*• Thunder and lightning! — excuse me, I mean 
 dewdrops and crocuses. I see you never worked in a fac- 
 tory." Martha hesitated ; her pulses stirred to the breath 
 
 also pars. 68, 74, 118, 148. This is not exactly motivation of 
 the action, but it is motivation of the final effect — an adjustment 
 of all the elements of the situation to produce a final agreement 
 (see S. S. M., 180-183). 
 
 69. From this point on, cliaracterization of Aunt Harry occurs 
 frequently (distributed). — Observe how the nickname "Aunt 
 Harry " fits the virile personality of the lady. 
 
 70. Another portion of distributed exposition — Martha's back- 
 grounds.
 
 A Ragtime Lady 81 
 
 of roses, of pine-needles, the clean warm smell of fresh- 
 turned earth. A stretch of deep and misty valley framed 
 broad in the window, far and still, a glimpse of white 
 Windsor shouldering through the haze, and a clear river 
 curving away to dimness. " But, honest, I don't know 
 beans ! I can wash dishes and make fudge, and that's 
 about my limit." 
 
 75. " I'll teach you," said Aunt Harry reassuringly. 
 " I've told you what I pay. 'Tisn't much — less than half 
 what you earn making shoes, I guess." 
 
 76. " And board ! " Martha's nose gave a grateful 
 little twitch for steaming coffee and spluttering ham. 
 " I'm real fond of food, too. Guess I'll sign for a 
 tryout." 
 
 77. " If you're sure you know what you want," said 
 Aunt Harry tartly, " I don't mind saying that a little 
 country air will do you a power of good. You look like 
 skim milk." 
 
 78. " Yes'm — freckles are real becoming. I've noticed 
 that. I'd get a nice grist from the strawberry picking. 
 But I ought to tell you that I don't seem to have the 
 knack of holding a job. Guess I'm a new-broom girl." 
 She spoke solemnly, and Aunt Harry stole time for a quick 
 look. 
 
 79. " Well, child, if you only stay through the straw- 
 berry season it will be a sight of help — I'll be as honest 
 with you that far. The menfolks are rushed off their feet 
 and everything is left to me. But, mind, you'll have more 
 housework than berry picking. City cousins are coming. 
 They always do — to save us from handling so many straw- 
 berries." 
 
 80. " I'm your man. I'll write a card for my duds.
 
 82 Toi>ay's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Let's see — how'll I put it ? ' Dear mother : Please pack 
 my little old suitcase and send it to Windsor, care of 
 Curly's aunt.' " 
 
 81. " Bless my soul ! " said Curly's aunt. " Forgot 
 that last night, didn't we ? I'm Harriet Hall. Xow, you 
 go call the menfolks to breakfast and I'll introduce you." 
 
 82. From the porch Martha called in a clear bell-note : 
 
 83. "Au-bur-n-n!" 
 
 84. " You know I'm not one to meddle, Harriet — I 
 never was ! " Mrs. Euphemia Mix settled her plump per- 
 son in a rocking chair. " But it really did seem, bein' in 
 the place of a mother to him as you are, you ought to know 
 about Coburn Hall's scandalous goin's-ou ! Lottie thought 
 so, too." 
 
 85. " Ye-s," said Aunt Harry reflectively. " Lottie 
 would." 
 
 80-81. Observe here and throughout bow the tone of Martha's 
 talk is preserved (unity of atmosphere). Note the skill with which 
 the purely matter-of-fact is introduced — not plumped at us baldly, 
 but so worked in that it is actually part of an interesting passage 
 of characterizing- dialogue. Moreover, the situation so revealed — 
 that these delightfully informal folk forgot the immaterial matter 
 of mere names- — is itself a side-light on their character. Little 
 minds would think about names; big-souled folk think of essen- 
 tial, not accidental, matters. Euphemia Mix would have had the 
 matter of names settled five minutes after the wagon drove up. 
 
 84. The second plot incident of the movement, beginning here, 
 continues to par. 99. Note again the direct beginning. 
 
 85. Three words of dialogue and four describing the manner of 
 the speaker, are enough to tell us (1) that Lottie has her cap 
 set for Coburn; (2) that she probably is a schemer, as Mrs. 
 Mix is; (3) that Aunt Harry understands them thoroughly; and 
 (4) that she is quite equal to Mrs. Mix in any contest of will or 
 wits. It is largely by such effective compactness that the short
 
 A Ragtime Lady 83 
 
 86. " Of course we couldn't speak to Mr. Hall " — 
 Mrs. Euphemia Mix shuddered at the thought — " but you 
 can. Harriet Hall, he came up the glen road last night 
 with some girl " 
 
 87. " Mr, Hall ? " said Aunt Harry tranquilly. 
 
 88. " Goodness, Harriet, how you do put me out ! 
 Coburn, of course. He came along with some girl about 
 nine o'clock. Everybody heard 'em singin' and carryin' 
 on all the way up the hill. I think Mr. Hall ought to be 
 told." 
 
 89. " Well, I can mention it if you insist ; but Coburn's 
 twenty-one and I doubt if John would interfere anyhow; 
 he likes singing himself." 
 
 90. " Harriet Hall ! The idea ! You know perfectly 
 well what I mean. That girl — she was none of the neigh- 
 bors' girls. There isn't such a voice on the hill. Shame- 
 less hussy ! " 
 
 91. " Shameless for having a good voice or because she 
 wasn't born on Holley Patent ? " asked Aunt Harry. 
 
 92. " ISTow what makes you so provoking? That 
 woman ; who was she ? " 
 
 93. " Oh ! I could have told you that ; but I misunder- 
 stood you. I'm a little deaf in one ear," said Aunt Harry 
 simply. " You may have noticed it. I was beginning to 
 
 story, although limited to briefer treatment, often attains some- 
 thing of the large perspective and general interpretive scope of 
 the novel. — Observe the hidden fitness of the names " Mix " and 
 " Euphemia." 
 
 88. Utters in dialogue a thorough realization of a petty, vicious 
 mind; fine characterization. 
 
 93. Study the characterizing value of the speech, (1) in its 
 shrewd affectation of simplicity and misunderstanding, and its 
 equally shrewd, though covered, thrust at Mrs. Mix on the side of
 
 8-i Today's Siioirr Stouies Analyzed 
 
 think you meant to complain that the singing woke you 
 uj). 1 have to go to bed early myself now. How time does 
 go ou, doesn't it ? " She settled back in her rocker, com- 
 fortably intent on her knitting. 
 
 94. " Harriet ! You make me want to shake you ! 
 AYho was she ? " 
 
 05. " Oh ! The young lady ? She came to help me 
 through the strawberry season. Shall I tell her you 
 praised her voice? Or perhaps you would like to meet 
 her?" 
 
 9G. Mrs, Mix was almost in tears. " A girl that would 
 sing songs like that ! — Put Your Arms Around me, Honey! 
 —Turn Off Your Light, Mr. Moon Man ! " 
 
 97. Aunt Harry rose — that masculine lady; she put 
 her knitting aside and fixed her caller with a satiric eye. 
 
 98. " Euphemia Mix, I knew you when you were a 
 Calder ; and I'll say this for you — no one ever heard you 
 singing as you came up a dark road ! Don't talk to me ! " 
 
 99. She lacked little of the grenadier except the shako. 
 
 100. " Won't your mother object to your working here, 
 
 her age; (2) in helping to fix our opinion of Mrs. Mix. This 
 indirect characterization becomes pretty direct in par. 98, where 
 Aunt Harry's speech is sharp and plain in its implication. This 
 same speech, moreover, has the indirect effect of expressing anew 
 the conclusion about Martha — that as she sings along the dark 
 road, and girls who sing in such circumstances are doing nothing 
 to be concealed, Martha's morals are to be trusted. 
 
 100. Here begins stage three of the second movement; it con- 
 tinues through par. 111. It is mainly eoncei'ned with further char- 
 acter-exposition — Martha's exaggerated summary of the character- 
 forming influences of her experience and family surroundings. 
 Observe once more that her account of herself rather increases
 
 A Ragtime Lady 85 
 
 Miss Menlick ? And would she mind if I smoked ? " 
 
 101. They were under the pine trees on the lawn. No, 
 that is a mistake — the trees were not on the lawn; the 
 lawn was round the trees and was built to fit them. Miss 
 Menlick delayed her reply to repeat a starbright with 
 earnest faith. 
 
 102. '^ She'd be glad to get me away from the bright 
 lights ! " It was said with a simple directness worthy of 
 Aunt Harriet at her most fearsome. 
 
 103. " And the smoke « " 
 
 104. "Silly!" 
 
 105. " Don't you suppose she was worried about you 
 last night ? Why wouldn't you let me telephone ? " 
 
 106. "Worried? Her? What for?" Martha brought 
 her eyes from the stars to her neighbor. " Like as not she 
 forgot to take the census — we're a Eoosevelt family. Even 
 if she missed me she probably thought I'd got a job some- 
 where. Seems like I never hold a place down, . . . 
 Long distance, please ! We live out in the hoop-skirts and 
 we don't keep a 'phone. Of course I might have called up 
 Biff Lee — he knows the way to our house. But what's 
 the odds ? They know I can look out for myself." 
 
 107. " Biff Lee ? " Coburn's tone was like that of one 
 who, with a wrinkled nose, regards a noxious insect. 
 
 108. " Biff ? Best batter in the Shoestring League. 
 Good old Biff!" said Martha cheerfully. "Thought 
 everyone knew Biff ! " 
 
 109. Coburn flung the insect aside. 
 
 our liking for her. She has had a hard time, has been equal to 
 the emergencies she met (adaptabiUty — see 68), and has evi- 
 dently maintained ideals, sometimes at a cost. Moreover, her 
 disposition has kept sweet — and her sense of humor is abounding.
 
 86 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 110. " So you don't stay in one place long? " he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 111. "Long? Honest, Curly, if tliey knew about me 
 they'd run me in the Sunday Supplement : Mournful Mat- 
 tie — She Gets Fired ! I've been in 'most every room in 
 the shops; I can make the whole dinky shoe, from hide to 
 wearer. I've been fired for cutting hours and fired for 
 cutting leather ; for being sassy and being surly ; fired be- 
 cause I wouldn't let the foreman make love to me and fired 
 for making love to the forearm ; fired for not doing enough 
 work and for doing too much work — yes, I have ! That 
 was piecework. I fired myself from the hotel because the 
 graveyard was so crowded, and I quit the cafeteria for a 
 reason I had. Then the nickelodeon — I stayed there the 
 longest — singing; fired only last week. ... I busted the 
 piano stool over the professor's head. S'pose that had 
 anything to do with it ? " 
 
 III. 
 
 112. " You may say what you like, Harriet," urged 
 Mrs. Euphemia Mix. " I tell you that girl can't afford to 
 dress the way she does on what you pay her." 
 
 113. "Think so?" 
 
 114. " I know it. Whoever heard the like — chambray 
 and French gingham for working clothes ? And them 
 short sleeves ! " 
 
 115. " Perhaps you're right," said Aunt Harry. " I'll 
 raise her wa^es." 
 
 112. Third movement begins. The first stage extends through 
 par. 148. Studying the opening, observe how much merely 
 explanatory narration can be omitted.
 
 A Ragtime Lady 87 
 
 116. Mrs. Eiij)heniia bit back tears of vexation. 
 
 117. " Harriet Hall, you're just bekacked with that 
 good-for-nothing gadabout — and she knows as much about 
 housekeeping as a cat does about Sunday." 
 
 118. " She's learning — not fast enough to shock me, 
 maybe ; but I like her and I like her 'pretty dresses, too. 
 She sort of lightens up the old place. I wouldn't have 
 her any different. I like to see her round. So does 
 John." 
 
 119. " Oh, I dare say — and Coburn, too ! " 
 
 120. " And Coburn, too." Aunt Harry serenely clicked 
 her needles. " We like to hear them sing — John 
 and I." 
 
 121. " You're as blind as a bat ! Harriet Hall, do you 
 know that bold-faced piece sang in the moving-picture 
 shows at Dennison ? " 
 
 122. " So she says." 
 
 123. " And was discharged for improper conduct ? " 
 
 124. "So you say." 
 
 112-138. Besides developing the action, these paragraphs con- 
 tribute much tone material — the part of the atmosphere that hjs 
 the subjective coloring of small-minded suspicion and maUcious 
 hypocrisy. The same is true of pars. 84-99. In all this, too, is 
 the effect of contrast; for Aunt Harry is directly opposed to 
 Mrs. Mix, as a type of the militantly generous-minded, and 
 Martha (and to some extent Coburn) are indirectly in contrast 
 with the Mix-Halliday type. Incidentally, in these two episodes 
 we may consider Aunt Harry, in character quality, a foil to 
 Mrs. Mix (S. S.M., 69). 
 
 124. See close of par. 111. The reader knows, though Aunt 
 Harry does not, part of the circumstances, and has guessed the 
 others; therefore he is in position to judge the accuracy of Mrs. 
 Mix's words, and appreciate Aunt Harry's remark, together with 
 its revelation of character in each of the women. At this point, 
 we may note that in this story the authors permit their attitude to
 
 88 Today's Siiokt Stokies Analyzed 
 
 125. This was too inncli even for Mrs. Euphemia Mix. 
 She rose, shaking, 
 
 12G. " I suppose you'd take her word against mine! " 
 
 127. Aunt Harry counted her stitches. 
 
 128. " Did you discharge her yourself, Euphemia, or 
 did someone tell you about it ? " 
 
 129. " I knew you'd take some such stand as this. 
 
 the persons to appear (S. S. M., 212-214). Study the methods 
 by which they create a subjective colorins; that reveals this atti- 
 tude. For instance, throughout the introduction of Martha (pars. 
 1-21), the descriptions have an admiring: quality, although they 
 are almost entirely objective — somehow they give one the impres- 
 sion that the authors chose them with a sort of caressing desire 
 to make them fit the girl and picture her forth as she appeared 
 to them. In pars. 19-21 come adjectives of direct indication — 
 " pretty and unexpected diffidence " ; " resolute little mouth." So 
 far as Martha is concerned, this sympathy, showing throughout 
 the story, is most discernible in the zest with which she is por- 
 trayed and characterized; "reckless, care-free, star-mad, obsessed 
 with youth " (par. 23), she is presented enthusiastically as if she 
 embodied qualities that the authors greatly like. And the spirit 
 of this is so strong that it catches and fills the readei*. Rightly 
 understood, the " author's view of life " can always be conveyed 
 —and conveyed by artistic means — through his story. See 
 S. S. M., 196-198, 245 (last 7 lines ff.), 246 (middle to end). This 
 story is full of a spirit of enthusiasm for frankness, honest uncon- 
 ventionality, kindness, generosity, tolerance, beauty (of heart, 
 person, and nature) ; but the student will have to look close to 
 find outward expressions of this fact. 
 
 129-139. The basic source of interest is suspense (S. S. M., 134, 
 20-21). The basic source of suspense is uncertainty, and uncer- 
 tainty arises always from conflict. The episode in these para- 
 graphs is a conflict, or struggle, between two persons and between 
 the two types of character and views of life represented by these 
 persons. Similarly, many episodes and incidents in dramatic 
 fiction — especially plot incidents — themselves consist of struggle 
 or conflict. Determine what tlie nature of the struggle is, and 
 between what persons, forces, ideas, etc., it takes place, in pars.
 
 A Ragtime Lady 89 
 
 Harriet Hall, you've put me down mighty often and 
 snubbed me off short; but this time I've got you where 
 you can't help being convinced." Malice gleamed in the 
 beady little eyes. " I never was one to be inquisitive; but 
 when I run up here last week to look over the Vesper Bell 
 I couldn't help noticing the police items had been cut out. 
 I kept it in the back of my head, and when we took the 
 eggs to Vesper yesterday I went to the Bell office and got 
 last week's copy. I want you should see it." She brought 
 the paper from her folded shawl with a triumphant 
 flourish. " Read that, will you ? " 
 
 130. " You read it to me," said Aunt Harry. " I'll 
 tend to my knitting." 
 
 131. So Mrs. Euphemia Mix read, with vindictive 
 emphasis : 
 
 132. "Edward Blossom pleaded guilty in police court 
 yesterday to petit larceny, having stolen a gold watch 
 valued at forty dollars, belonging to Mrs. S. A. Halliday, 
 proprietress of the Halliday Hotel. The watch was found 
 in a West Avenue pawnshop, and when Blossom was taken 
 into custody he confessed that he took the timepiece from 
 Mrs. Halliday's room on Friday evening of last week. 
 Mrs. Halliday had not suspected Blossom, her star 
 boarder, but had sworn out a warrant for Sally Menlick, 
 a wayward girl who was discharged by Mrs. Halliday the 
 day the watch disappeared. The Menlick girl was already 
 on probation from the juvenile court at Dennison. Blos- 
 som was sentenced to six months' imprisomnent in jail." 
 
 133. " Well ? " said Aunt Harry. 
 
 1-7, 11-21, G7-80, 149-172; and find others. (Is there any element 
 of struggle or contest, in pars. 37-65? How is it settled? Does 
 the outcome in any degree forecast the outcome of the story?)
 
 DO Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 131. " Ain't that cnoiigh ? ISTow you see the kind of a 
 i;irl vonr precious Martha Menlick is! " 
 
 134. " T don't seem to follow you," said Aunt Harry 
 humbly. " I thought you said Sally Menliek ? " 
 
 135. " So I did. But you don't want the sister of 
 such a creature as that hanging round you ! No knowing 
 what she'll take." 
 
 136. '^ Exactly. If three times three is eleven, three 
 times eleven is eighty-six. Just so ! " Aunt Harry rose 
 with the briskly unmistakable air of one Avho terminates 
 an interview; she appropriated the Vesper Bell as con- 
 traband of war. " I'll light the supper fire with this. 
 Excuse me for not being surprised, Euphemia. I cut 
 that little item out of the Vesper Bell myself ! " 
 
 136. "AYhat! You stand up for such rubbish as that 
 — and you a respectable woman ! " 
 
 137. The respectable woman snapped her fingers. 
 
 138. " That for Pheb' Halliday ! She accuses a girl 
 of theft; the accusation is proved false, and you blister 
 your feet and your tongue telling it for true. Respectable 
 woman ! Bah ! " 
 
 139. With such peroration, this estimable lady, more 
 grenadier-grim than ever — if ever a grenadier wore steel 
 spectacles and a Little Orphant Annie apron — bore down 
 upon her shrinking foe, apparently intent upon physical 
 violence. Whether such were indeed her design, or some 
 more diplomatic measure, can never be known. Mrs. 
 Euphemia Mix opened her mouth once, thought better of 
 it, and flung herself through the door, dismayed and 
 dumb. 
 
 140. Aunt Harry laid the fire with an unwonted vigor 
 of lid and lifter that verged upon the profane; in which
 
 A Ragtime Lady 91 
 
 duty she became aware of a tall, white Martha at the 
 pantry door. 
 
 141. " I heard every word, Mrs. Hall. You're — ^you're 
 very good to me. I appreciate it. I'm grateful to you 
 for all your kindness — indeed I am — but hadn't I bet- 
 ter go ? " 
 
 142. Aunt Harry scowled ferociously. 
 
 143. " And the house full of company next week ? 
 Let me catch you at it ! Grateful your granny ! Hark ! 
 Because I like to cross and bedevil Euphemia Mix ? That 
 woman just naturally sets my teeth on edge. You 
 needn't flatter yourself 'twas on your account — except that 
 I need your help for a while. You go peel the potatoes ! " 
 
 144. " Aunt Harry ! " Martha used the term quite un- 
 consciously and for the first time. A runaway tear trickled 
 
 down her freckly nose. " Did you — you didn't " 
 
 With a quick step she hid her burning face in Aunt 
 Harry's martial bosom. " It w^asn't you who cut that 
 story from the Vesper Bell, was it — really ? " 
 
 145. " My word ! " said the scandalized grenadier, and 
 she groped for adequate comment. The pressure of warm 
 young arms was not wholly unpleasant. " You heard 
 what I told Euphemia Mix, didn't you? What do you 
 want me to do — own up that I lied ? " The arms con- 
 veyed an insulting affirmative. "Well! Well!" To her 
 
 143. Many persons conceal their feehngs by devices similar to 
 Aunt Harry's; hence the truthfulness of characterization under- 
 lying her speech. 
 
 144-148. Preliminary to crisis ; the action has risen to the point 
 "where the love of Martha is revealed, and that of Coburn clearly 
 indicated. In pars. 149-172 we get the crisis of this movement, 
 which is one of the two main crises of the story. Pars, 144-147 
 are the outcome-paragraphs of this stage of movement 3.
 
 92 Tooay's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 great astonishment, Aunt Harry observed that her own 
 hand was bestowing surreptitious and awkward pats on 
 Martha's rounded arm. Shamefaced and incredulous she 
 glared at the offender. " As Euphemia would say, I 
 never was one to grudge a good lie in season. You go get 
 those potatoes ! " 
 
 146. At the potato bin Martha shook aside an angry tear. 
 
 147. " Curly did it — for me ! " she whispered to her- 
 self happily. Then she drooped. 
 
 148. " You ? " she scoffed. " You silly, slangy little 
 dunce ! Not good enough ! You — You — doing a Weepin' 
 Winnie ! — agoing into a clinch with that dame and givin' 
 the snap away — you make me sick ! Do you want to pull 
 him down to your level ? Beat it, you little fool ! Beat 
 it — see ! " 
 
 149. " S'matter, pop ? " 
 
 150. It was plain to be seen in the mellow glow from 
 the hall lamp that something was the matter. There was 
 more than anger in the boy's puzzled eyes ; the bewilder- 
 ment of a faithful collie who has felt injustice for the 
 first time and does not believe it possible. 
 
 151. " I guess you know. That she-poison-pedler " 
 
 152. "Mrs. Mix?" 
 
 153. Coburn's guardian angel sighed. Martha laughed. 
 
 149-172. Stage 2 of movement 3, and the most intense stage of 
 the story, being the part in which the opposing forces in the 
 critical period of Martha's Ufe that this story covers, subject her 
 to the fiercest struggle. 
 
 153. Why? Even speech can be made clear by suggestion. 
 What did Coburn say? Is it as effective in his own words as it is 
 in this indirect presentation? Why did Martha laugh? Theoretical 
 morality and wholesome human nature are contrasted here: how?
 
 A Ragtime Lady 93 
 
 154. " Cheer up, old hand," she said. " Sometimes 
 things will go wrong like that — ever so long; and then 
 turn right round and get worse! Some class to Phemy; 
 but she can't show me up the way I could myself — she 
 don't know ! " She laughed again ; but the spontaneous, 
 light-hearted bubbling changed on her lip to a harsh and 
 strident sneer. 
 
 Is " Martha laughed " more satisfying to the artistic sense than 
 a passage of direct moralizing would be? Rewrite the paragraph, 
 bring out the contrast by means of reflective comment ; then test 
 the effect by reading it in connection with the preceding para- 
 graph. Does the substitute give the effect of tyro work? See 
 S. S. M., 194-196. 
 
 154. This paragraph presents Martha in a period of character- 
 gi'owth, as does the entire stage. Observe the mood of this, as 
 in the "harsh and strident sneer" (find other instances). Char- 
 acter does not often pass through crisis without undergoing some 
 change as a reaction. At the close of this episode, Martha has 
 achieved a noble act, but at a personal cost that is likely to react 
 unfavorably on her own character; thereafter, she is likely to 
 become inwardly more like the environment to which she has 
 returned, represented outwardly by bold speech, cynical behavior, 
 recklessness of amusement, and the like. The paragraph shows 
 her at a moment when she fully recognizes what this environ- 
 ment is, and how she has been and will be a part of it, and 
 thus presents her at a potentially tragic moment of character 
 history (but cf. introd. n. 8). Later — at the end of the story — 
 reversal of the tragic situation takes place, so that she is not 
 made to pay the harsh price of her self-sacrifice, but is brought 
 back to the happier and wholesomer environment where her fine 
 qualities will be stimulated rather than thwarted; and in that 
 environment, she will always be a " bigger " woman for the crisis 
 and her decision in it. Martha, therefore, grows in character; 
 and the struggle producing this growth, with the uncertainty 
 whether it will ultimately take the direction of good or of ill, 
 is part of the conflict of the story. Incidentally, the " happy 
 ending " problem is well illustrated. The authors' report could 
 end either way with truth to life. They chose the non-tragic 
 outcome. As the probabilities would not be violated in either
 
 94 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 155. "Oh, what's the use? Except mother and the 
 kidlets, we're a hard lot. Sam — ^lie's the oldest — he's all 
 right. He got away. Guess the rest of us didn't have 
 much chance. j\Ij dad's a booze-hoist. He used to be 
 good to us, at that — before he took to bending his elbow 
 and making a little amateur hell between acts. And Sally 
 — you know about her; you did the little scissors 
 stunt with the Vesper Bell. That was white of you, 
 Coburn!" 
 
 156. On the porch-rail a brown hand closed over a 
 white one. 
 
 157. " I don't care one copper cent about your family! 
 I care more for you than " 
 
 158. "Forget it!" 
 
 159. " I do — you know I do. I want you, Martha." 
 
 event, their decision in favor of the happy ending would be based 
 on: (1) The underlying purpose of the story. This clearly in- 
 cluded a presentation of generous, upright spirit in opposition 
 to suspicious meanness. This aspect of the theme could be pre- 
 sented either by showing youth and frankness rising superior 
 to meanness, or thwarted and embittered by it. Therefore the 
 decision would be felt to depend a good deal on (2) the tone of 
 the story. This is on the whole happy — serious, j'et not too 
 serious; touched with youth, gaiety, and the spirit of a "rag- 
 time lady." Further, the decision would quite likely depend 
 somewhat on (3) the authors' view of life (optimistic rather than 
 pessimistic), and also on (4) the liking of the authors for their 
 centi'al person. That they liked Martha personally is, I think, 
 certain. Almost instinctively, therefore, they would be likely to 
 give her the happiness that she deserved. — Note the satisfying 
 effect of the final reversal (mentioned above) in Martha's fate. 
 Some authorities regard a reversal as absolutely necessary to 
 dramatic effect. 
 
 155-168. Seek out the indications of tenderness notwithstanding 
 the language used. Are there other examples of the employment 
 of suggestion to communicate fact?
 
 A Ragtime Lady 95 
 
 160. " You're a good driver, Curly Puzzlehead, and 
 kind to dusty little girls. Let it go at that ! " 
 
 161. '^ Will you marry me, dear? " 
 
 162. She flared scorn at him. 
 
 163. "Can it! Nothing doing! Line busy! Ring 
 off! " At each coarse and repellent word she shriveled and 
 shrank away in some horrible anamorphosis, as though a 
 butterfly should change back to a grub; she put by sun- 
 light and wings, calling desperately on her store of pitiful 
 knowledge. " Me ? Me marry a roughneck ? Oh, go hoe 
 your cabbage ! I want a live one ! The short and merry 
 for mine ! " 
 
 164. But he was close; he saw in her eyes the little 
 skipping lights that belied her. She read his purpose in 
 his face and wrenched loose her forgetful hand. 
 
 165. " Why, you great chump ! If I was fool enough 
 to want to marry you — which I'm not — do you suppose 
 your folks would let you marry Sally Menlick's sister ? " 
 
 166. His arms were open, pleading. 
 
 167. " I love you ! If there were fifty Sally Men- 
 licks " 
 
 168. She laughed in his face with a bitter and brazen 
 tone ; her voice was hard. 
 
 169. " Aw-w, you will have it! You big mutt, I'm 
 Sally Menlick!" 
 
 169-170. The climactic height of this stage, and also of the 
 story as a whole up to this pomt. Note that if the story were not 
 to have a happy ending, this point would probably be the grand 
 tragic climacteric. The situation here established may be described 
 as a contrast, for the final or climactic situation. Note that the 
 latter includes a reversal of the story outcome up to this point. 
 Out of this reversal much of its dramatic thrill comes. Pars. 
 169-170 are, therefore, a strong item of resistant delay ( S. S. M., 
 154: 7 and footnote).
 
 96 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 170. Then Coburn went away. 
 
 171. She stood on the porch and watched liim go. Her 
 throat was aching and dry with the ashen taste of triumph. 
 . . . Tomorrow — and tomorrow — and tomorrow ! . . . 
 Into her tired brain came a thought of refuge — the mid- 
 night train for Dennison. She grasped at it — the one sure 
 thought in a whirling world! . . . Aunt Harry ? Aunt 
 Harry Avould understand ! Desperate, afraid, she fled be- 
 tween the glimmering tall syringas and set her feet toward 
 Windsor and the midnight train. 
 
 172. Alone along the winding way, swift and strong, 
 breasting the moonlight, bareheaded, all in white, she 
 went as she came ; and, so remembering, she sang — lest 
 Heaven should guess or warm earth sense her pain. High 
 and clear her young voice rang bravely into the perfumed 
 night; to sink at the last — pitiful, sagging and slow: 
 
 Now the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing — 
 The breeze is sighing — the nighthirds crying ; 
 For afar, 'neath his star, her brave is sleeping — 
 While Red Wing's weeping her heart away! 
 
 IV. 
 
 173. An August sun beat upon the stone soldier. At 
 his feet the public fountain brimmed in a great iron basin ; 
 and here Coburn Hall let his horses drink. Xo one would 
 
 173-196. These paragraphs constitute movement 4. They in- 
 clude the decisive moment and the supreme climax. There is but 
 one sentence of falling action — or rather, of ending — the last. 
 The decisive moment, with outcome implied, comes in pars. 179- 
 18-1 (189). Note the compression and rapid narration of this 
 movement. 
 
 I
 
 A Ragtime Lady 97 
 
 call Coburn apple-cheeked now ; the stone soldier himself 
 was scarce more gaunt and hard. 
 
 174. While Coburn put out his team at the feed-stable, 
 Aunt Harry waited in the park, grateful for the cool 
 shade. Farther along the walk a young man and a young 
 woman sat on another iron bench, much engrossed. The 
 girl was handsome in a bold and sullen way; her voice 
 was pitched too high. 
 
 175. To Aunt Harry, waiting, came trippingly Mrs. 
 Euphemia Mix, with manner ominously pleasant. She 
 sank down upon the seat. 
 
 176. " Warm, isn't it ? " she smiled. 
 
 177. Aunt Harry admitted as much, with misgivings, 
 and prepared to receive cavalry. The stone soldier, for 
 his part, saw gladly that Coburn Hall was near at hand, 
 coming across the street ; and was also aware, out of the 
 tail of his eye, that belated Boney Hardman, with an 
 empty cab, was clattering trainward over the brick pave- 
 ment ; and he heard the eastbound local at the whistling- 
 post. 
 
 178. Mrs. Euphemia Mix unmasked another smile, and 
 even Aunt Harry, for all her hardihood, flinched a little ; 
 she longed for her knitting needles. 
 
 179. " You remember that Menlick girl who came so 
 near making trouble between you and me, dear ? Well, I 
 never was one to hold a grudge, but I've got something to 
 tell you. I've just been calling on Phoebe Halliday; and 
 what do you think ? " She beamed delightful intelligence. 
 " Her sister's had the face to come back to town ; and 
 that's her yonder — that chattering, bedizened creature, 
 over there on that bench." 
 
 180. " Pheb's ? " suggested Aunt Harry.
 
 "98 Today's Short Stories Analyzkd 
 
 181. Mrs. Euplieniia Mix was not to be baffled today, 
 however. She was in her best form. She laughed vin- 
 dictively. 
 
 182. "Oh, no! Your precious Martha's sister — the 
 girl that stole the watch — Sally Menlick." 
 
 183. " You are sure of what you are saying, Euphemia 
 MLx?" 
 
 184. " Pheb' Halliday pointed her out to me." 
 
 185. " Thank you," said Aunt Harry. " It was real 
 good-hearted of you to tell me. Coburn, come here ! " 
 
 186. Coburn had been hanging back in dread of Mrs. 
 Mix ; but he came at the call. 
 
 187. " Xephew," said Aunt Harry, with fine direct- 
 ness, " look at the overdressed young woman on the next 
 seat. Take a good look ! Did you ever see her before ? " 
 
 188. " Why, no. What about her ? " 
 
 189. " Coburn Hall — that girl is the real Sally Men- 
 lick!" 
 
 190. " Aunt Harry ! " He whirled, ran and flung up 
 his hand at Mr. Boney Hardman. The cab barely 
 checked ; Coburn swung up to the driver's seat. 
 
 191. " Catch that train !" 
 
 192. The cab made the corner on two wheels. The 
 local was just pulling in. 
 
 193. " Afraid I can't do it, sir," said Boney as they 
 took the bridge at plunging gallop. " They'll arrest me, 
 too." 
 
 194. " That will be afterward," said Coburn. " Catch 
 that train! " 
 
 195. The stone soldier's eyes were dreaming.
 
 THE UNKNOWN" 
 
 The Stoey as a Whole 
 
 1. " The Unknown " is an excellent example of the 
 problem short story (S. S. M., 27 : 4-15). That it distinctly 
 is a short story (conte) is proved by its singleness of effect 
 (S. S. M., 19 : 1-3 ; 36 : 2) ; by its having a conclusive out- 
 come (S. S. M., 10 : 1-6 ; 192 : 6 ; and running note on par. 
 139) ; and by its turning upon a conflict (S. S. M., 
 30:10) — that betvt^een parental impulse and cold reason. 
 
 2. It is one of those stories which can be best devel- 
 oped by employment of the strictly chronological order 
 (S. S. M., 122 ; 1-5 ; 153 : 5-7) ; for its aim is gradually to 
 unfold before us this question: if children of ours (see 
 next note) had remained in savagery for many years, 
 would it now be for either our good or theirs to bring them 
 back into civilization ; and should we be happier to know 
 that, under conditions that must have returned them to an 
 animal-like existence, they still survive, or to believe that 
 they died in time to escape this fate ? To bring this ques- 
 tion home to us, the author carries us through a series of 
 events in which, aspect by aspect, the problem is laid be- 
 fore us as it developed for decision by persons with chil- 
 dren lost in such circumstances. By this method we are 
 made to meet the problem stage by stage as, with growing 
 intensity, it presses upon the parents (in this case the 
 father) for decision. Chronological sequence clearly is 
 best adapted to effect this presentation, 
 
 99
 
 100 Today's Shout Stouiks Analyzed 
 
 3. Although directed to all mature readers, the story is 
 particularly addressed to parents, or at least to those in 
 whom affectionate interest in children is strongly estab- 
 lished. No one who has not experienced devoted love and 
 realized something like parental responsibility for some 
 child, is likely to appreciate the story except in an intel- 
 lectual, not an emotional, way. The author's method of 
 creating emotional appeal (S. S. M., 63:14, with 15-17 
 and esp. IS) is partly responsible for his employment 
 of the chronological order. He realizes that any reader 
 whose experience qualifies him to appreciate such a story 
 at all, will immediately put himself in the place of the 
 friends and parents of the lost children, and while follow- 
 ing through with them the successive stages of their prob- 
 lem, undergo emotionally the same feelings as they under- 
 went. The absence of any artificial stimulation of emo- 
 tion is to be noted ; such stimulation would be out of place 
 in this story, and attempts to introduce it might degrade 
 the narrative. See S. S. M., 67 : 18. 
 
 4. A review of the narrative will disclose that it is 
 remarkably rhythmic in the alternating rise and fall of 
 expectation and uncertainty, hope and disappointment. 
 To this alternation is traceable (from the technical point 
 of view) much of the suspense felt by the reader (S. S. M., 
 92:1; 99-103). — That the suspense in different stories 
 may be of a very different quality can be fixed in mind 
 by study of this in comparison with other stories. This 
 difference of course is the result of a difference in mate- 
 rials and (sometimes) in manner of presentation, Cf. 
 " The Unknown " with " In the Matter of Distance," 
 " The Love of Men," " A Eag-time Lady," " Tropics," 
 " That Hahnheimer Story," and other stories, especially
 
 The Unknown 101 
 
 those of plot or character, as met with in general reading. 
 
 5. The story offers an example of masterly integration 
 of impression-producing elements. The note on pars. 
 139-147 attempts some discussion of this ; but the effective- 
 ness of the management is here one of those things that 
 have to be sensed ; it is not to be appreciated merely 
 through exposition. 
 
 6. The story presents " the universal " (S. S. M., 256) 
 in two ways — by familiarizing us with instincts and emo- 
 tions common to all men and classes, and by suggesting 
 indirectly the supreme necessity of social organization to 
 preserve and transmit the experience of the race ; for it 
 makes us realize that in fifteen years persons accustomed 
 to civilization throughout their childhood will revert to 
 a wholly animal existence if removed from the influences 
 of society. This power to " present the universal " is here 
 mentioned because the story is a good reminder of what 
 we sometimes forget — that the influence of art can be and 
 is instructional — upon all who follow their enjoyment 
 with reflection. See S. S. S., 34: 19-20; 194: 10.
 
 THE UNKNOWN 
 
 By Albert Payson Terhune 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the lOditors and the Author from " The 
 
 Red Book " for February, 1917. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1917) 
 
 1. When the tiny tourist steamship Aloha puffed 
 through the Golden Gate in late November of 1900 for 
 a wintertime loiter in the South Seas, she carried 107 
 first-class passengers who had more time than business, or 
 else more money than health. 
 
 2. When the Aloha was creeping with blind-man cau- 
 tion, one fog-cursed night late in December, through a 
 reef-starred stretch of remote ocean far southward of the 
 travel-lanes, her captain chose that festal occasion — it was 
 Christmas Eve — to accept a single small glass of punch 
 brewed by a passenger who was one of the line's foremost 
 officials. 
 
 1. See S. S. M., 129:12-21, on interest-in-opening. The lei- 
 surely development of the opening (this and the four following 
 paragraphs) must be judged by the requirements of the story in 
 its later parts. It will be found (e.g.) that the motivation and 
 plausibility of various later facts and situations really depend 
 on apparently immaterial details mentioned in pars. 1-15. Such 
 are the long uncertainty about the place where the vessel was 
 wrecked; the separation of friends and families in assigning the 
 passengers to the boats; and the upsetting of a boat, with the 
 consequent possibility that the children were drowned at that time. 
 The verisimilitude of the wreck incident itself is much increased 
 by the plain, matter-of-fact introduction of this body of convinc- 
 ing details. 
 
 103
 
 The Unknown 103 
 
 3. This mild potation would not have turned the head 
 of a ten-year-old child. Its very mildness was the cap- 
 tain's excuse for drinking it — that and the fact that the 
 magnate who brewed it and who pressed the glass upon 
 him was the arbiter of his financial destinies. 
 
 4. There was perhaps a teaspoonful of whisky among 
 the other ingredients in that one glass of punch. 
 
 5. It was Captain Stilsen's first taste of liquor since 
 a drastic three-month drink-cure course at a sanitarium 
 years earlier had given him streng-th to change from a 
 periodic drunkard to a smartly reliable navigator. 
 
 6. Stilsen went back at once to the bridge. There all 
 the torments of hades racked his very soul. Presently, 
 turning over the command to his first officer on plea of 
 sudden illness, he went to his cabin. 
 
 7. Thither he summoned a wondering steward, who 
 presently brought him two quart bottles of Scotch whisky, 
 a siphon and a bowl of cracked ice. 
 
 8. An hour later it occurred to Captain Stilsen that 
 the night was very foggy, that reefs w^re unpleasantly 
 numerous in that stretch of sea and that a captain's place, 
 in such a crisis, was on his bridge. This idea took such 
 complete possession of him that he strode back to his post 
 of duty and resumed command. 
 
 9. Within half an hour the Aloha's starboard quarter 
 was the nesting place of a shark-tooth reef. 
 
 10. Stilsen did the two things that remained for a man 
 in his circumstances to do. First he got all his passengers 
 and crew safely into the boats before the slow-settling 
 Aloha's weight tore her, inch by inch, from the upholding 
 tooth of rock. Then he went calmly back to his own 
 sharply listing cabin, locked its door behind him and un-
 
 104 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 corked the seeoiul (inart of wliisky. lie was having a very 
 pleasant time indeed when the increasing water-pressure 
 burst inward his locked door and pushed a shower of port- 
 hole-giass into the cabin. 
 
 11. Of the Aloha's boats all but one was sooner or 
 later picked up. All her passengers but three were res- 
 cued, in better or worse condition. 
 
 12. The exception, in the roster of boats, was a little 
 naphtha launch, a mere toy. The three human absentees 
 were : 
 
 HEXRICUS VAN DUYNE (A.B., A.M., Ph.D., 
 
 F.R.S.), aged forty-five, Professor of Applied Science 
 at Coromandal University. 
 
 MARK BURLEIGH, aged fifteen, a " prep "-school 
 boy, who had been making the voyage as the guest of his 
 maiden aunt. Miss Susan Burleigh, of New York. 
 
 MARGUERITE CRAIG, aged fourteen, whose par- 
 ents. Dr. and Mrs. Bruce Craig (also of New York), 
 were saved by a copra-schooner and reached home at 
 the end of twelve incommodious weeks. 
 
 13. A naphtha launch, a man of forty-five, a boy of 
 fifteen, a girl of fourteen — these were the Aloha's missing. 
 The captain did not count. There was no mystery as to 
 his fate. 
 
 12. Observe the tone of actuality given by means of the quasi- 
 newspaper form; also the condensed cataloguing of essential infor- 
 mation-details made possible by this form. (The narration 
 throughout closely adheres to journalistic standards in its com- 
 pactness and directness, and its freedom from superfluous ampli- 
 fication and adventitious ornament.)
 
 The Unknown 105 
 
 14. The launch (which had been stowed on deck, for 
 the benefit of a " way " passenger who owned it and who 
 was to have debarked three days later) had contained fuel 
 and by Stilsen's orders had been provisioned and lowered 
 with the other boats. Who had manned or occupied it, 
 nobody seemed to recall. 
 
 15. The night had been black and foggy. The drink- 
 dulled Stilsen had automatically — and autocratically — as- 
 signed the various passenger groups to the different boats. 
 And without panic, but with dazed, sheeplike obedience, 
 they had followed his commands. One boat had upset, 
 spilling its load into the calm water, but everyone — sup- 
 posedly — had been hauled aboard again when it was 
 righted. 
 
 16. For weeks the tale of new-landed survivors was 
 continued. For months Miss Susan Burleigh and the 
 Craigs and Professor Van Duyne's invalid wife clung 
 piteously to hope. Then, when a year had passed, they 
 schooled themselves to face their losses. 
 
 17. Two insurance companies duly paid Van Duyne's 
 widow seven thousand, five hundred dollars apiece. A dual 
 memorial service was arranged by Miss Burleigh and the 
 Craigs, as belated obsequies for Mark and for Marguerite. 
 And life went on — as life has a way of doing. 
 
 18. But eight months after the year's lapse a whaler, 
 touching at Sable Island, left there a very dirty and very 
 
 18. Upward fluctuation of hope — quickly disappointed, but 
 maintaining expectancy even while seeming conchisively to show 
 that the children were drowned; for if one of the three lost pas- 
 sengers survived, some chance might have likewise saved the other 
 two. It will be seen that the story produces suspense by thus 
 utilizing the trait of human nature that makes the heart hope on 
 when the brain insists that there is no hope. Look for other flue-
 
 100 Topay's Short Stories ANAiAZF.n 
 
 unkcnipt iiiau oi middle ago who promptly introduced him- 
 self to the local authorities as Ilenricus Van Duyne, 
 A.]?., A.M., rh.D., F.R.S., etc., recent Professor of Ap- 
 plied Science at Coromandal University — who demanded 
 instant passage to New York. 
 
 19. The Craigs and Miss Burleigh read the cabled ac- 
 count of Van Duyne's reappearance. And all three of 
 them traveled as far north as Halifax to meet him on his 
 southward journey. But they had their trip and their 
 reawakened hope-pangs all for nothing. Professor Van 
 Duyne could give them no tidings whatever of the missing 
 boy and girl. 
 
 20. The story Van Duyne told was simple to a degree, 
 lie and two sailors, he said, had been assigned to the 
 naphtha launch on Stilsen's learning that he understood the 
 w^orking of motor-craft. 
 
 21. The two sailors — ignorant Lascars — had trusted 
 neither the efficiency of such a newfangled boat nor the 
 guidance of a landsman. Wherefore they had at once slid 
 over the side and had swum across, under cover of the fog, 
 to an undermanned lifeboat fifty feet away and had 
 climbed aboard. 
 
 22. Left alone, Van Duyne had tried to follow the gen- 
 eral course of the boats ahead of him, but had lost his 
 bearings in the fog. He had chugged along by guesswork, 
 until daylight lifted the mist. Then all around him the 
 ocean had showed no sign of any other craft. Taking 
 bearings by the new-risen sun, the Professor had continued 
 along the course the Aloha had been steering. His supply 
 
 tuations. The summarizing of Van Duyne's story has the further 
 effect (cf. note on par. 1) of increasing the impression of truth- 
 to-actuality, the verisiraiUtude, of the story.
 
 The Unknown lOY 
 
 of fuel gave out before he could sight land. Then a gale 
 had caught his boat astern and had driven it on — while 
 he alternately prayed and bailed — for another forty-eight 
 hours. 
 
 23. At last, with the falling of the wind, the exhausted 
 man had sighted a hilly island blazing green in the blue 
 glare of the sea and girt with snow-bright sand. Thither, 
 by rigging his shirt on the launch's boat-hook, he had 
 beaten his way more dead than alive and had beached his 
 boat. 
 
 24. On that South Sea island, for six long months, he 
 had lived. Except for lonely hopelessness, he had not 
 fared ill. From fish to breadfruit, from trappable game 
 to edible roots, there was natural food enough on those 
 twenty square miles of fertile land to sustain fifty 
 men. 
 
 25. There were indications aplenty of former human 
 occupancy. A Polynesian tribe had doubtless lived there, 
 but many, many years ago. Some pestilence had probably 
 wiped out or at least decimated the islanders, and the place 
 had since been shunned in terror by all other natives. 
 
 26. Six months later the Professor's signal was seen by 
 a whaler cruising to the island in quest of water. The 
 whaler's captain had been in haste to get well out beyond 
 the reef-fringed coast before the coming of a threatened 
 typhoon, but had stopped long enough to fill a few casks 
 and to take the marooned professor aboard. The captain, 
 however, had refused to leave his course to carry Van 
 Duyne to any port whence he could reach home. Thus the 
 Professor had perforce remained on board, reluctantly 
 working his passage, until toward the end of the cruise, 
 when he was dropped at Sable Island.
 
 lOS Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 27. The Professor's story \vas interesting enough, as 
 stories go. But it ceased to interest the Craigs and Miss 
 Burleigh as soon as they found he knew nothing about the 
 fate of Mark and Marguerite. And again hope died. 
 
 28. The mourners remembered the overturning of one 
 of the lifeboats, the spilling of its human freight into the 
 sea, the righting of the boat and the hauling of dripping 
 s^vimmers over its sides. There had been no " counting 
 of heads," after the capsized passengers were fished aboard 
 again. Ami, since the launch was now accounted for, 
 there was no longer any mystery as to the fate of the boy 
 and girl. 
 
 29. The Aloha sank on Christmas Eve, 1900. On New 
 Year's Eve, 1915, Mr. Bruce Craig received by mail a 
 long envelope containing a brief note and a pair of type- 
 written sheets. The note ran : 
 
 Bruce Craig, Esq. : 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 The enclosed is a copy I made today of one of the 
 papers I found in the safe-deposit box of the late Hen- 
 ricus Van Duyne of this city. As Professor Van 
 Duyne's next of kin, I was searching his effects for a 
 will when I came upon this statement. I recall the 
 
 29. Is anything more than definiteness of time attained by men- 
 tion of Chi'istmas and New Year's? Would "Sept. 1" and 
 "Sept. 8" be as impressive? If not, why not? (Cf. S. S. M., 
 56:5-7; 25:4 (d) ; 63:14; 65:16-17.) 
 
 29-30. Preparation for another upward fluctuation of expect- 
 ancy and hope. The fact that this fluctuation depends on facts 
 that are of leading importance in the plot leads the author instinc- 
 tively to give it prominence by preparing the way for it in 
 advance — or, as we may say, introducing it formally, thus empha- 
 sizing it by increased attention. Find the remaining instances.
 
 The Unknown 109 
 
 whole case, very vividly. And it occurred to me that 
 you have the right to see this statement at once. So I 
 have herewith copied it. It needs no comment from me. 
 Very truly, 
 
 RuFus K. Van Duyne. 
 
 30. Puzzled, Bruce Craig unfolded the sheets of typed 
 paper and read : 
 
 31. I, Henkicus Van Duyne, being as nearly in my 
 right mind as ever again I can hope to be, have decided 
 to add the following facts and corrections to the state- 
 ment I made to the press, upon my arrival at Sable Island 
 in August of this year (1902). 
 
 32. For obvious reasons I cannot make known these 
 facts, while I am still living. But if I die within the 
 next twenty years, it may not be too late to atone in part 
 for what I have done — and for what God will perhaps 
 forgive me, when He remembers that He gave me the soul 
 of a coward. 
 
 31-48. Is it likely that such a document would be left by any 
 man in such circumstances? In other words, is the existence of 
 this confession sufficiently motivated in recognized traits of char- 
 acter and human nature? Would a man such as Van Duyne be 
 troubled in conscience by what he had done? If he were weak 
 enough to abandon the children, would he be weak enough to con- 
 tinue his concealment of their existence after his own escape, and 
 also weak enough on the other side to try to sop his conscience by 
 such a secret confession? Once having written it, would he, 
 either through inertia or indecision, let it continue among his 
 papers, to blast his reputation after his death if it came to the 
 knowledge of his family or the public? The author (rightly, it 
 seems to me) makes no attempt to explain Van Duyne's course, 
 but depends upon the reader's own knowledge of character and 
 human nature to appreciate the facts on which this confession is 
 motivated.
 
 110 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 33. !My statement to tlie press was in the main correct 
 — so far as it went. The only actual falsehood I told was 
 concerning the two sailors assigned to the launch with 
 me. 
 
 34. The two persons entrusted by Captain Stilsen to 
 my care, in the launch, were not sailors. They were a 
 boy and a girl — Mark Burleigh and Marguerite Craig. 
 
 35. Nor did they jump overboard, as I said the sailors 
 did. They remained with me through those three days 
 of torture and fear, and they landed with me upon the 
 island that for six months was my prison. There, through 
 my small scientific knowledge, I taught them what plants 
 to use or to avoid, for food. I also taught them how to 
 weave fishlines from fiber and to shape fishhooks from 
 tuna-bone and how to set gamesnares. 
 
 3G. One day they two went to the western end of the 
 island for shellfish. They started at dawn and were to 
 return by moonlight, as it was a nine-mile journey each 
 way. An hour after they set forth I sighted the whaler 
 at anchor off shore; its longboat was already rowing 
 toward me, laden with water-casks. 
 
 37. The captain — so the mate in charge of the boat 
 told me — had ordered the casks filled as hastily as pos- 
 sible from the nearest spring, as the glass gave warning 
 of a gale and he wished to get out into deep water. There 
 is no safe anchorage at the island. He bade me be ready 
 to accompany the boat as soon as the casks should be filled 
 — or else to stay where I was. 
 
 38. In vain I begged him to wait until night, so that 
 my two companions might return. He refused. When 
 the casks were filled, I put off to the whaler with him, and 
 there I repeated to the captain my plea for delay.
 
 The Unknown 111 
 
 39. He brutally refused, telling me I might swim 
 ashore again if I chose, and that he would not risk a hur- 
 ricane among those reefs, to rescue a whole orphan-asylum. 
 
 40. What was there for me to do ? If I went back to 
 that accursed island, a lifetime might elapse before the 
 next ship would touch there — for it is far off the lines of 
 ocean travel, and the whaler merely neared it because 
 blown far out of her course by a storm. 
 
 41. How could I have beneiited Craig and the girl by 
 returning? My first duty was my wife — and to the 
 world of science. Also — I realize it now — I was a 
 coward. 
 
 42. In brief, I made up my mind. I told the captain 
 and mate that I had no companions on shore and that I 
 had mentioned them only in hope of gaining time to go 
 back to my hut, across the island, for some scientific 
 specimens I wished to save. 
 
 43. The captain kicked me for lying to him ; and he 
 set me to work scraping blubber — a horrible occupation. 
 
 44. I had time, in the months that ensued, to realize 
 the figure I should cut in the eyes of my friends and of 
 the world at large should I confess I had gained my own 
 freedom and had left my two young comrades to end their 
 days there on the island. 
 
 45. I dared not face the contempt of the public. I 
 should never have been able to live down the cowardice. 
 It would have broken my wife's heart with shame. It 
 would have meant my expulsion from the University — 
 the belittling of my life work. So I framed the story I 
 told on my arrival. 
 
 46. May God forgive me ! May those who loved Mar- 
 guerite Craig and Mark Burleigh forgive me ! Perhaps,
 
 112 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Avhcn 1 am dead, it will not yet be too late to rescue the 
 two children I deserted. 
 
 47. And yet — if much time shall have elapsed — let 
 those who love the tw^o think twice before seeking to rescue 
 them. Many years ago I read a strange book — The Blue 
 Lagoon, I think, was the name. It told of a boy and a 
 girl thus cast away on such an island ; the thing has hap- 
 pened before now, in fact as well as in fiction. And I 
 advise the castaways' parents or guardians to read that 
 book. 
 
 48. But this latter is no affair of mine. Again I im- 
 plore forgiveness — my wife's above all. 
 
 Heneicus Van Duyne. 
 
 49. Craig read the confession through a second and a 
 third time. Then he read it to his wife. Then they both 
 
 49. Beginning here and continuing as far as par. 85, we have 
 the first portion of the narrative especially devoted to indication of 
 the conflict out of which the problem grows. — It may interest 
 some to note that the author has made the women the represen- 
 tatives of its emotional side — the instinctive impulses of affection 
 — and the man the representative of its intellectual side (though 
 he shares with the women-folk the emotional impulse). In the 
 final stages of this conflict, when Craig has become the main 
 representative of it (89 to end), Captain Ranee is also found 
 to represent this side. 
 
 If any argument or justification for assigning this side to the 
 two men is needed, it is found in the obvious fact that a life- 
 time of deciding practical problems has trained them in the 
 habit of considering questions in all their aspects and basing deci- 
 sions on clearly forecasted results. The two women have lacked 
 the kind of experience that gives the knowledge of life and 
 affairs necessary to such apparently cold weighing of facts and 
 probabilities. 
 
 We may regard this assignment of parts as giving a side-light 
 gn economy of management; for though, with the like precedent
 
 The Unknown 113 
 
 went to the gloomy old Stuyvesant Square house of Miss 
 Susan Burleigh. And there Craig read the confession 
 aloud. 
 
 50. He had to read the last half of it to Miss Burleigh 
 a second time, for in the middle of his first reading she 
 fainted. 
 
 51. Then followed much more talk, interrupted now 
 and then by a flood of hysterical tears from both women. 
 
 52. " What is to be done ? " demanded Mr. Craig at 
 last, his brain recovering some of its wonted working- 
 power. 
 
 experience, women might be as likely as men to apply coldly 
 practical logic in deciding such a problem, the fact remains that 
 most women have not had such experience and that the author 
 would therefore have to expend additional effort (to no gain in 
 truth or conclusiveness of impression), in order to give plausi- 
 bility to the situation. 
 
 Reduced to a technical direction, this comment amounts to say- 
 ing, " Don't waste time by motivating anything that is not re- 
 quired by the outcome and impression, but leave it out, espe- 
 cially when you can build directly on some belief or convention 
 so generally received that it may be treated as fundamental." 
 (The belief or convention may be erroneous, but its utility as a 
 motivating means is not thereby necessarily nullified.) 
 
 The amount of space occupied (here and later in the story) 
 in getting the problem before us, is justified by the demands 
 of clearness and the fact that human impulse is emphatically on 
 the side of " rescue " ; at first thought, few persons, man or 
 woman, but would be for an immediate attempt to bring back 
 the castaways. The forces of the opposed argument impress only 
 by slow degrees — and may not fully impress us at all unless we 
 clearly appreciate the meaning of some of the things merely 
 suggested by the narrative. (As hinted in introd. n. 3, the author 
 depends largely for understanding upon the extent of the read- 
 er's experience and of his ability to realize through his own 
 knowledge and sympathies the true inwardness and intensity of 
 the situation.)
 
 11 A Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 53. "Done?" echoed his wife, amazed. "Done? 
 What, do you mean, Bruce ? Surely there's only one thing 
 to " 
 
 5-1. " Done? " babbled Susan Burleigh, tearfully indig- 
 nant at the question. " Why, man alive, there's every- 
 thing to be done! What's the matter with you? Don't 
 you understand ? The two babies that we've mourned as 
 dead for fifteen years are alive! Alive! There on that 
 awful island, in the South Seas ! Alive — and waiting for 
 us to bring them home. How soon can we start ? It's 
 too late, tonight, I suppose. But " 
 
 55. " Yes," grimly agreed Craig, " it is too late, tonight. 
 I'm afraid the last car for the South Seas has gone." 
 
 56. " Bruce! " gasped his wife. " How can you joke, 
 at such — at such a sacred time ? The joy has made him 
 light-headed," she explained to Miss Burleigh. 
 
 57. " No," he denied, " it has made me level-headed. 
 Someone must be. That is why I asked ' What is to be 
 done ? ' You see, / once read The Blue Lagoon — that 
 book Van Duyne speaks about." 
 
 58. "What's that got to do with it?" shrilly chal- 
 lenged Miss Burleigh. " This isn't a time to talk about 
 books." 
 
 59. " We can start for San Francisco, first thing to- 
 morrow morning," declared Mrs. Craig. " And from 
 there " 
 
 60. " Yes," interposed her husband, " from there — 
 where ? " 
 
 61. " To the island, of course — by the first ship we can 
 charter. By the " 
 
 62. " Where ? " doggedly insisted Craig. " Where is 
 the island ? The South Seas are fairly aswarm with
 
 The Unknown 115 
 
 islands — thousands and thousands of them, big and little. 
 That's what Polynesia means. It's Greek for Many 
 Islands. Polloi means many, and nesos means " 
 
 63. " But Professor Van Duyne lived there six months. 
 Surely, he " 
 
 64. " How could he know ? " asked Craig. " He had 
 no instruments, no chart. He himself said that he had no 
 means of guessing except in the most general way, where 
 he was. He traveled three days from the spot the Aloha 
 went down. But in what direction and at what speed ? 
 There are probably fifty islands in a two-hundred-mile 
 circle from the place where the Aloha sank. And we've 
 only a vague knowledge as to where she sank. The wreck 
 was never located, and the ship's log wasn't saved." 
 
 65. " But the whaler ! " cried Mrs. Craig in triumph, 
 " the whaler that picked up Professor Van Duyne ! 
 Surely the " 
 
 66. " The whaler was an old ship fifteen years ago," 
 countered her husband. " She's probably been broken up 
 or gone to the bottom years ago. And her captain would 
 be impossible to locate, even if he is still alive. He was 
 an elderly man, Van Duyne told us. And that was in 
 1901. The crew are scattered, of course. And probably 
 the ship's log could never be found, now — even if the log 
 made record of the exact latitude and longitude of an 
 island, off the regular track, where the ship was blown by 
 a gale and where she watered. They're notoriously care- 
 less, those whaling-men, in recording anything except 
 catches and deaths and accidents " 
 
 67. " Mr. Craig ! " broke in Miss Burleigh, " I am a 
 fairly well-to-do woman, as you may know. I don't spend 
 one-fifth of my income — because I don't need to. And I
 
 116 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 am going to spend every cent of money I have in tte 
 ■world, if I have to, to find my boy. I'm going to charter 
 a ship — not one ship — a dozen ships. I'm going to have 
 the South Seas combed with a fine-tooth comb. I'm going 
 to offer a reward of fifty thousand dollars " 
 
 68. " A reward ! " eagerly chimed in Mrs. Craig. 
 " That's it ! We'll hoih offer a reward — a reward big 
 enough to set every Pacific skipper to hunting for them. 
 Oh, we'll find them, that way. Something tells me we 
 shall ! And we'll charter a ship, too — and " 
 
 69. "One minute!" said Craig gravely. "Do you 
 realize what this means ? Do you realize " 
 
 70. " I realize I want my little girl — my only baby ! " 
 flamed Mrs. Craig. 
 
 71. " And I want my boy ! " sobbed Miss Burleigh, 
 " — the splendid little boy who never knew any mother 
 but me. He was only my nephew. But no mother could 
 have " 
 
 72. " You don't understand me," intervened Craig. 
 " Let me put it as kindly as I can." 
 
 73. He paused to collect his words in the order he 
 desired. Then he continued : 
 
 74. " You say you want your children. Miss Burleigh, 
 your ' little boy ' was fifteen when you lost him. Our little 
 girl was fourteen. That was fifteen years ago, last week. 
 If they are living, Mark is thirty. Marguerite is twenty- 
 nine. Does that mean nothing to you? Think it over." 
 
 75. " It means that they have grown up, of course," 
 said Miss Burleigh. " But w^e can make up to them for 
 all their years of exile there, and " 
 
 76. "Can weV
 
 The Unknown 117 
 
 77. Craig fairly shot the question at her. 
 
 78. " Can we make it up to them ? If they are alive, 
 they have lived since childhood the lives of savages — with 
 no books, no advice, no civilized surroundings, no teach- 
 ings — except Nature's. They have fished, hunted, eaten, 
 drunk, slept. They have lived for more than half their 
 lives as young savages might live. 'No," — forestalling an 
 interruption from his wife, — " not as young savages, but 
 as animals. For young savages would have tribal cus- 
 toms and traditions and folklore and the experience of 
 their elders to guide them. These two children had not 
 even that. If that cur Van Duyne had stayed there with 
 them, it would have been different. But he stayed only 
 long enough to teach them how to sustain life — not how 
 to live life. They would be dragged back here — two 
 savages, nothing better ! Perhaps something worse ! Is 
 it fair to them ? Is it fair to us ? 
 
 79. " Have you any idea," persisted Craig, " in how 
 brief a time a whole civilized community can revert to 
 barbarism, if it's left to itself? Then how about two 
 children who grow up as ours have — if they've lived to 
 grow up at all ? How about clothes ? How about mental 
 exercises? How about " 
 
 80. " Then we must make up to them, all the more, 
 for what they have missed," purred Miss Burleigh 
 benevolently. 
 
 81. With a groan, Bruce Craig gave up the battle. 
 
 82. " All right! " he agreed drearily. " Have it your 
 own way! I'll do all I can. I'll do all any mortal can 
 do. I promise that. Only, I insist that you leave the 
 whole matter in my hands for the present. I'll arrange 
 for offering the reward and for chartering a boat and
 
 lis Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 evervtliiiig. And Til use all the speed and all the skill 
 that money can snpply. Only, I want you not to take any 
 steps until I've succeeded or failed. Will you agree ? " 
 
 S3. In the end, because he was a man and she a 
 spinster, Miss Burleigh agreed. And because she had a 
 way of obeying when she saw that queer, set look around 
 his mouth, Mrs. Craig assented too. 
 
 84. And that night as he lay awake and hot-eyed beside 
 his slumbering wife, Bruce Craig whispered over and 
 over to himself in agony of soul : 
 
 85. " My little girl ! Dad's own, own baby girl ! God 
 in His mercy grant that you're safely dead! God grant 
 you died while you were still my baby girl ! " 
 
 86. In the morning Craig was quite grumpy and 
 businesslike at breakfast, and he seemed to have forgotten 
 all about the tidings of the night before until Mrs. Craig 
 recalled the matter to his mind. And before the meal was 
 fairly finished, he left the house. 
 
 87. He did not go, as usual, to his office, but instead to 
 the Public Library. There, consulting newspaper files of 
 August, 1902, he found the story of Van Duyne's rescue. 
 The account gave the name of the whaler and of its captain, 
 — also the shipping firm that owned the vessel. It was a 
 New York firm. 
 
 88. Craig jotted down the firm's address and went 
 thither. Two hours later he was climbing the front steps 
 
 86-88. These paragraphs might be put into a single sentence: 
 " Craig at last found the old captain who had commanded the 
 whaler." But the fuller form helps in making us live through the 
 events, stage by stage, thus creating in us more strongly the sense 
 of personal experience. Cf. introd. n. 3; S. S.,M., 192:6..
 
 The Unknown 119 
 
 of a jerry-built New Jersey cottage. He was the bearer 
 of a strong note of introduction from the whaling firm, to 
 the whaler's ex-captain, Hiram H. Ranee — who had for 
 five years been on the retired list and who was ending his 
 days here in a suburban dry-dock. 
 
 89. Like many another seafaring man who is an unholy 
 terror on his own quarterdeck, Captain Hiram H. Eance, 
 ashore, proved to be a mild-mannered and deprecatory old 
 chap, with watery blue eyes and a lonesome-looking white 
 patch of chin beard. 
 
 90. He received Craig, non-committally, in the cot- 
 tage's atrocious sitting-room, and very carefully read the 
 firm's note of introduction. Then he read it again. 
 
 89. Here and in later paragraphs, care is taken to make us 
 appreciate the character of Captain Ranee. (On characterization 
 of subordinate persons, see S. S. M., 182:6-9.) One reason for 
 this is, that the author wishes us to realize how the pi'oblem strikes 
 different types of person. We have seen how the mother and 
 aunt — the women most closely bound to the castaways by human 
 ties — feel about it; how the father feels and reasons about it. 
 
 Now we are to see how it strikes such a man as Ranee, who 
 on the one hand has been accustomed to situations where senti- 
 ment has no place and where men learn to deal with the bare 
 actualities of life, but who on the other hand has plenty of 
 " human " quality and whose love for his own " little giil " quali- 
 fies him to appreciate the parental and " heart factors " of the 
 problem ; and who moreover knows at first hand what the chil- 
 dren will have become, because his whaling life has acquainted 
 him with all the aspects of human degeneration from that of the 
 seaman and whaler down to that of the beach-comber and the 
 barbarian tribe. 
 
 There is also another reason for making us realize his char- 
 acter. He is to be the father's proxy in determining the prac- 
 tical solution of the concrete problem; therefore we must have 
 confidence in his human sympathy on the one side and his bal- 
 anced worldly judgment on the other. (Note par. 90, which 
 shows what his social standards will be in making his judgment
 
 120 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 After that he visibly threw aside the reserve so proper to 
 a sailor who is approached by a prosperous-looking lands- 
 man and placed himself wholly at his guest's service. 
 " Owners' Orders " are shipmasters' Ten Commandments. 
 
 91. Craig told his story succinctly, yet in a way that 
 made Ranee understand the terrible problem that faced 
 his guest and to do mental homage to the speaker's self- 
 control. Then Craig began to ask questions. And Cap- 
 tain Hiram H. Ranee gave full and careful replies. 
 
 92. Yes, Ranee had perfect recollection of the island 
 and of Van Dunne's rescue. The matter had not only been 
 entered in the whaler's log but in the private diary which 
 the Captain had religiously kept since boyhood (and 
 which, after brief rummaging, he now produced from a 
 sea-chest in the attic). 
 
 93. Here was the entry — six lines in all. And here, 
 of course, were the latitude and longitude of the island. 
 
 94. Yes, and Captain Hiram distinctly remembered 
 the professorial castaway's story of two fellow-refugees. 
 He had believed Van Duyne's later assertion that there 
 
 — not those of wealth and cultured refinement, but those of the 
 ordinary everyday " common " class. The gi'ound is thus cut 
 skillfully from under the possible idea that such castaways might 
 fall into common life •well enough even if existence in the refined 
 and intellectual surroundings of the Craig and Burleigh class 
 required impossible adjustments; for Ranee makes us perceive 
 that such castaways would be misfits, not with this or that social 
 class merely, but with civilized society in any class.) 
 
 94-103. The reluctance of the Captain to come to the point con- 
 veys to us better than direct statement what he believes about the 
 survival of the children and what his judgment is on the problem 
 itself; evidently he feels that in letting the father know his 
 daughter did not perish, he is giving evil news (cf. par. 85). 
 (Note that the Captain nowhere expresses a direct opinion. This 
 is true to human nature, for most of us would evade in the
 
 The Unknown 121 
 
 were no such refugees. He had believed it, and in his 
 heart he had been glad, for he had been irked at the need 
 of leaving two white people there for the sake of his ship's 
 safety. He had believed the story, until — until 
 
 95. " You see, sir, it's this way : That island, now — 
 she's off the beaten track. She's far-an'-away off the trade- 
 routes an' travel-lanes. I knew her, because when I was 
 mate on the Annie S. (out o' Gloucester, you know) back 
 in 1887, we touched there for water. That's why I tried 
 to water there when we were blowed out of our course the 
 time we picked up your professor. I don't believe there's 
 a craft of any kind sights that island twice in ten years — 
 let alone stops there. An' for some queer reason, the 
 natives steer clear of it. It isn't even charted." 
 
 96. " Well ? " asked Craig impatiently as the narrator's 
 rambling talk trailed away. 
 
 97. " Well," — Captain Hiram took up his seemingly 
 aimless tale, — " I was retired, back in Jan'ry, nineteen- 
 eleven. My last voy'ge ended a week before that. A three- 
 year cruise it was." 
 
 98. Again he paused, cleared his throat, and looked 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 99. " In St. John's, it was, on the home-stretch," he 
 added, " that I met up with Cap'n Boyd of the Speed an' 
 Follow. (He went down with his ship an' all hands, off 
 Sable, in nineteen-twelve. ) Him an' me got to chinning 
 about this an' that. An' he said he'd read in a newspaper 
 
 same way in like circumstance, and it accords with the method 
 of the story, which does not emphasize the outcome (S. S. M., 
 31:12), but seeks rather to leave us with a sense of the weight 
 of the problem itself. See comments on coherence and integra- 
 tion of impression-elements, par. 139-147.)
 
 122 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 about mo picking up Professor Van Duyne at that island, 
 in ninetecn-two. lie asked nie a lot about the location." 
 
 100. " Well ? " again interrupted Craig, to whom these 
 devious reminiscences were a growing annoyance. 
 
 101. " Well," said Captain Hiram more briskly, as if 
 nettled by the other's impatience, " I couldn't make out 
 what he was driving at, till pretty soon he tells me he 
 sighted that island early in nineteen-ten, — that's 'bout five 
 years back, now, you see, — being blowed off his course by 
 one o' those mussy little tropic typhoons, same as I was. 
 He passed the island five miles to south'ard. An' he gave 
 it what my grandson calls ' the once-over ' with his glasses. 
 He'd heard it wasn't inhabited. But — on the beach he 
 saw — he saw — two natives." 
 
 102. "What?" cried Bruce Craig in sudden tense 
 interest. " Two natives ? " 
 
 103. " Two natives. At least — at least, he thought 
 they must be natives. An' — an' he thought there was only 
 two of them. He couldn't be sure. The day wasn't 
 bright, an' " 
 
 104. Again his voice trailed away. Craig jumped to 
 his feet, walked heavily to the window and stared out for 
 a long time into the slushy suburban highway. Over and 
 over to himself, through no volition of his, he found him- 
 self repeating the Captain's words : 
 
 105. " He thought they must be natives. He thought 
 there was only two of them ! " 
 
 106. Suddenly Craig turned back into the room. 
 
 107. " Captain Ranee ! " he said sharply. " You 
 spoke just now of your grandson. Have you a daughter ? " 
 
 108. " No sir," answered Ranee in surprise. Then, 
 his voice softening, he added:
 
 The Unknown 123 
 
 109. " Not now. Three sons and the grandson. I 
 hadn't but one daughter, ever. She was took to heaven 
 when she was twelve — summer complaint. I was on a 
 cruise at the time. I call to mind, I brought her home a 
 toy theajter from Frisco, that trip, an' a necklace of 
 abalone. An' she'd been dead pretty near a month when 
 I got to shore. She'd of been — she'd of been thirty-one, 
 this next March — eighth of March. The parson told me 
 at the time that I'd stop grieving for her, by an' by, an' 
 get reconciled to her being took. An' maybe I will. But 
 I don't seem to make very much progress. It's queer how 
 much fonder a man is of his little girl than he is of his 
 big, noisy sons, an' how much harder it is to forget her. 
 Little girls are so cute an' loving an' gentle, an' all that. 
 Why did you ask about Tillie ? " 
 
 110. " I asked," said Craig, " because I want your ad- 
 vice — and then your help. I'll pay liberally for the help. 
 But the advice must come as a gift from one stricken 
 father to another." 
 
 111. " I don't seem to get your drift, sir." 
 
 112. " Then I'll ask the advice, first," returned Craig. 
 " Captain, look me square in the eyes and answer me, man 
 to man. Knowing the circumstances as you do, would you 
 change places with me ? " 
 
 113. "How d' you mean?" queried Captain Hiram, 
 puzzled. 
 
 114. "I mean," pursued Craig, "would you rather 
 know your little girl had died before the world could lay 
 its dirty claws on her — would you rather know she is 
 
 109. Homely words, but they assure us that whatever part 
 Captain Ranee has to perform will not be performed without full 
 sympathy and sense of responsibility.
 
 124 Today's Shoet Stories Analyzed 
 
 happy with the Savior of little children — or to know she 
 might still be alive, under the same conditions that my 
 little girl is alive — if my little girl is really alive ? " 
 
 115. " Why — why, what a queer question that is, 
 now! " sputtered Captain Hiram. 
 
 116. "It's a fair question," insisted Craig, "and it 
 calls for a fair answer. If you could have your choice : to 
 know your daughter is where she is and as she is, or that 
 she is as my daughter is — which would you choose ? " 
 
 117. " I — I — " began the Captain; but Craig went on: 
 
 118. " And if your daughter were still alive and had 
 been living as my daughter has, for the past fifteen years, 
 would you bring her back to civilization ? Not for your 
 own sake, but for hers? Would you uproot her from the 
 life that an unguided Nature has taught her to lead, and 
 transplant her in twentieth-century New York? Would 
 it — or wouldn't it — be fair to her ? " 
 
 119. For a long minute, Captain Hiram made no 
 reply. Then he said, with seeming irrelevance : 
 
 120. " I come of New England stock. My folks was 
 among the first Deerfield settlers. You've read, in the 
 hist'ry-books, about the Deerfield mass'cre ? Well, a baby 
 girl — one of my fam'ly's children — was carried off by the 
 Injuns during that mass'cre. She was brought up a 
 savage, an' she married a savage. Twenty years later her 
 folks got news about her, and they brought her back to 
 civ'lization an' to their own home in Deerfield. She was 
 a savage, an' her ways was the ways of a savage. She 
 pined for the Injuns. An' as soon as she could, she ran 
 away, back to the Injuns. An' — her folks was glad 
 enough to let her go. That's a true story. You'll find it
 
 The Unknown 125 
 
 in the hist'ry-books. Maybe it has some bearing on your 
 question. An', again, maybe it hasn't." 
 
 121. "It comes as near to answering it as I'm likely to 
 get," said Craig after a moment's hesitation. " And as 
 near to it as I have any right to expect. So much for the 
 advice. Now for the help I spoke of. Captain Ranee, 
 will a bonus of five thousand dollars, and all expenses 
 paid, induce you to charter a ship and go to the island 
 with me to bring back my daughter and Mark Burleigh ? " 
 
 122. " Hey ? " grunted the astonished seaman. 
 
 123. " Remember," added Craig, " I foot every bill. 
 And you get not only master's pay from the minute you 
 sign on, but a five-thousand-dollar bonus — half of it in 
 advance." 
 
 124. " But — but, Mr. Craig," faltered Captain Hiram, 
 his brain buzzing with the temptation to add so much easy 
 money to his meager savings. "But why me? There's 
 scores of younger men " 
 
 125. " You are the man I want," said Craig tensely. 
 " I've decided that, since I've been here. You are the 
 man I want, because you understand. To the ordinary 
 shipmaster, it would be only a job. Will you do it ? " 
 
 126. In the end. Captain Hiram consented. 
 
 126-130. Endeavor to decide why it is better, for the purposes 
 of this story, to have the father left behind and the visit to the 
 island made by an outsider — a man like Captain Ranee. Would 
 the plot-outcome (S. S. M., 31:12; 24:1-2) be given too much 
 emphasis were the father brought face-to-face with his child and 
 forced to decide his problem in those emotional circumstances'? 
 Would his decision, whichever way it fell, be more likely to seem 
 to readers either emphatically wrong or emphatically right — the 
 outcome thus in either case transforming itself into a too definite 
 answer that would minimize our sense of the unsolvable nature 
 of the problem itself despite any outcome of the plot (see close
 
 12G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 127. Next morning Captain Hiram and Bruce Craig 
 started together for San Francisco. Craig, by super- 
 hiiuian eloquence and argument and bulldozing, prevailed 
 on the two women to remain in Xew York until his cable 
 from Honolulu, on the return trip, should apprise them 
 whether or not there was need for them to come out to 
 California to meet him. 
 
 128. Six days later, on the slippery docks of San 
 Francisco, Craig fell, breaking his right leg in two places 
 — one of the breaks being a compound fracture. 
 
 129. Two months in the hospital was the very best the 
 local surgeon could promise the sufferer. And Captain 
 Hiram perforce chartered a ship and set sail without him. 
 On the eve of sailing the Captain came to the hospital 
 for final orders. 
 
 130. " I'm doubly glad I chose you for this job instead 
 
 of n. on pars. 94-103)? — Since the method of the presentation 
 is, to make us appreciate the problem by carrying us imagina- 
 tively through a series of experiences attendant on a concrete 
 instance (introd. n. 3), will the story gain or lose in effect if it 
 is kept all the time a trifle vague and uncertain as to the truth 
 of the facts involved? — that is, does not the author wish us all 
 through the stoiy to feel the mood of uncertainty and hope and 
 fear that Craig felt ; and, since we put ourselves in Craig's place 
 in reading, should we not have this mood changed over into one 
 of certainty and perhaps horrified grief were Ave along with him 
 brought face-to-face with the reality? Is not this uncertainty an 
 essential part of the impression aimed at, and is not the outcome 
 for this reason so managed that even Craig himself is left still 
 with some little room to doubt, some small ground for hope, con- 
 cerning his child's fate? Finally, would not Craig's conduct, 
 if he in person were the one who decided to leave the castaways 
 on the island, so revolt our mstincts that we should cease to 
 sympathize with him and thereby lose our realizing sense of the 
 problem because we have lost our favorable feeling for the person 
 through whom the problem is revealed?
 
 The Unknown 127 
 
 of any other man," said Craig, who was reclining with his 
 plaster-cast leg thrust grotesquely out in front of him, 
 " doubly glad. Because on this quest, you've got to be 
 not only Captain Hiram H. Ranee but Bruce Craig as 
 well. Do you understand me ? You've got to use not only 
 your own judgment, but mine as well. I — I can't speak 
 any more plainly. I have no right to — not even to myself. 
 But — but keep on thinking of your own little girl when 
 you go to look for mine. Just imagine you're Bruce Craig, 
 in search of Hiram Ranee's lost daughter. I — I " 
 
 131. " I guess I catch your signals," said Ranee gruffly, 
 blinking very fast. " Good-by, Mr. Craig. I don't mind 
 telling you I'd rather do a month in irons in the booby 
 hatch, than tote the load you've just crowded onto my 
 shoulders. I'll have to act as the Good Man gives me light 
 to. That's the best anyone can do." 
 
 132. Eight weeks later Bruce Craig, supported by a 
 crutch and a cane, hobbled forward to greet Captain 
 Hiram H. Ranee as the latter entered the hotel room 
 whither Craig had been removed from the hospital two 
 days earlier. 
 
 133. " Your ' JSTo-one-alive-on-island ' cable from Hono- 
 lulu kept me from boarding the first liner and coming out 
 to meet you," said Craig as the Captain silently shook 
 hands with him. " You've nothing to add to that ? " 
 
 134. " I'm glad you're on your legs again," replied the 
 Captain, finding his voice with some effort and speaking 
 with unwonted effusion. " You're looking better'n I 
 
 133. Another of the reminders that under Craig's reasoned con- 
 viction is the volcano of a father's feeling. By such means we 
 are kept from misjudging Craig — which would mean a failure 
 to appreciate his problem. See n. on pars. 139-147. 
 
 134-136. Cf. pars. 94-103, note.
 
 128 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 oxpoctod to SCO you, after siu-li a lay-by. I'm sorry you've 
 had to pay out so inucli good money, too, on a fool's er- 
 rand. I^ — " 
 
 135. *' Tell me about it ! Sit down and tell mc about 
 it — everything. You found the island without any 
 trouble?" 
 
 136. '' Found it ? " repeated Captain Hiram with fine 
 scorn. " Why wouldn't I find it ? Give me the latitood 
 and longitood of a place, an' I'll find it as easy as you'd 
 find a house-number. Any navigator can. I " 
 
 137. " Captain," interposed Craig, " I want you to tell 
 me what you found there. And — it's only a detail, of 
 course — I wish you would humor a sick man's whim by 
 looking at me instead of at the floor. You got to the 
 island. Well ? What then ? " 
 
 138. " We searched three days high an' low," said 
 Eance glibly, like one who repeats a well-learned lesson. 
 " X ot a living soul there — not anywhere. We stumbled 
 onto an old thatch, at last. It was overgrown with jungle 
 an' looked like a landsman had built it — Van Duyne, most 
 likely. An' — brace yourself, take it brave, sir — in sep'- 
 rate corners of the shack we come upon two skel'tons — of 
 a boy an' girl, it looked like — about fifteen years old, I 
 should say. I take it they'd died of hunger or something 
 when Van Duyne wasn't there any longer to teach 'em 
 what to eat. That man had ought to have been hanged, 
 for leaving them. We buried the bones, an' I read a 
 service over 'em. Then we provisioned with a lot of fresh 
 fruits an' fish an' the like, an' we came back." 
 
 139. " You were able to provision your ship there," 
 
 139-147. Here is the plot-outcome (S. S. M., 24:1-2), which 
 leads us to infer that Captain Ranee found the castaways alive,
 
 The Unknown 129 
 
 commented Craig, " and yet you say they died of starva- 
 tion ? After Van Duyne had taught them how to fish and 
 
 to trap and to " 
 
 1-iO. '' I didn't say they starved," growled Eance 
 crossly. '' I only said I s'posed so. All I know is that I 
 found their " 
 
 141. " And there were no natives on the island ? " 
 
 142. " Not a one. Not a sign of any living person, 
 native or white." 
 
 143. " Yet your friend told you he saw two people — 
 at least two people there, five years ago. Marguerite and 
 Mark would have been twenty-four and twenty-five years 
 old at that time. The skeletons, you say, were of a boy 
 and girl of about fifteen ? " 
 
 and decided that it would be better to leave them as they were; and 
 that in his judgment Craig and the womenfolk would be happier 
 if they could be convinced that the children perished when Van 
 Duyne abandoned them. But in obedience to the governing prin- 
 ciple of problem-stories, the author makes the outcome merely 
 a plot-outcome, and not an answer, one way or the other, to the 
 question, which is best? On the contrary, he manages it so that 
 at the end we are left asking ourselves, what should I have 
 done? That is, he has left us with a sense of the problem, not with 
 a solution of it. We are now in a position to note a significant 
 fact about Craig's conduct and the character of the man as indi- 
 cated by it. His conduct has all along been governed by two 
 aims — to take that course which would be for the best as con- 
 cerned his daughter and the boy, and then as concerned his wife 
 and Miss Burleigh; not a trace of selfishness appears in him. 
 Yet he had to bear also his own burden, and it was heavier than 
 theirs, because he realized so much better than the others the 
 tragedy of the children's survival. Besides, he suspected in his 
 heart, though he might at times permit himself to dream the 
 opposite, that Ranee had found the castaways alive, and that 
 he himself could still rescue them. Henceforth, therefore, he had 
 the terrible burden of protecting the women from the truth, and
 
 130 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 144. "Look here, Mr. Craig!" bellowed Ranee in 
 sudden rage, " I ain't used to having my word ques- 
 tioned " 
 
 145. " Did you ever study physiognomy, Captain 
 Ranee ? " asked Craig very quietly. " I ask because a 
 study of physiognomy has taught me two things : one is 
 that a thoroughly angry or indignant man always looks 
 straight into the other fellow's eyes. The other is that an 
 amateur liar always clenches his fists when he's telling his 
 most important lies." 
 
 146. " What's all that got to do with " 
 
 147. " With the fact that you've been looking every- 
 where except at me ? " broke in Craig's dead voice, " and 
 
 yet of eternally questioning his judgment and decision. Unless 
 we realize this, we shall not fully realize the intensity of his 
 struggle; and unless we realize the intensity of Craig's struggle, 
 we shall not realize the spiritual intensity of the story in which 
 this struggle is presented. 
 
 Coming thus to technical interpretation again, we now note the 
 remarkable coherence of the impression-producing elements of the 
 story (S. S. M., 19:1-3). It appears first in the method employed, 
 which causes the reader to put himself in the place of the rela- 
 tives — ultimately in the place of Ci'aig — thus vicariously living 
 through an experience identical with theirs, so realizing in its full 
 intensity the struggle that takes place. Then it appears in the 
 masterly devices employed for the maintenance of unity of mood 
 (for one illustration, return to pars. 126-130), including the 
 skillful management by which the outcome, instead of seeming 
 to end the problem, leaves the reader still questioning himself, 
 " Which would be right ? What should I do in Craig's, or even 
 Ranee's, place? " 
 
 As an example of integration, therefore, " The Unknown " 
 deserves the most careful and intimate study by the student of 
 technique. See S. S. M., 166:23 for definition; for pertinent 
 comment, see S. S. M., 180:4-5; 183:8; 184:10-15; 16:3-5; 
 47:10; 50:15; 63:13; 66:17; 90:10; 107:30-32; 109:33; 
 112 : 39 ; 158 : 11-12 ; 168 : 26-27 ; 192 : 6-7.
 
 The Unknown 131 
 
 that your fists are so tightly clenched that the knuckles 
 are bone-white ? I don't know, I'm sure. We'll start back 
 for New York, this evening, you and I. You've earned 
 your pay, if ever a man did. You're a good fellow. Ranee. 
 And a — a good father ! "
 
 THE LOVE OF MEN 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. A theme story. The themo is presented or rein- 
 forced in four places. First, it is embodied in the plot- 
 conception itself. The germ of this is : Two men love each 
 other so well that, to determine which shall sacrifice him- 
 self for the other's happiness, they undertake an adven- 
 ture meaning almost certain death, and discover thereby 
 that they are more to each other than anything else can 
 be. Second, it is implied in the paragraphs that give the 
 main part of the exposition (49-56). Third, it is ex- 
 pressed in St. Mar's speech in par. 88. Fourth, it is again 
 expressed in the paragraph of Bossu's philosophical com- 
 ment at the end (103). We may infer that the story had 
 its origin in a proposition embodying the theme, and that 
 the w^orking-plot was built up to illustrate this central 
 thought. 
 
 2. The reader leaves the story with the feeling that, 
 although impressive emotionally, it yet does not attain full 
 emotional effectiveness. This is partly because it fails to 
 attain essential atmosphere. Intense emotional experience 
 on the part of the two chief persons is not as apparent as 
 it could be. Among the reasons for this are, that the be- 
 ginning does not effectively strike this keynote ; and pos- 
 sibly that the passages of intensifying description are too 
 few, or inadequate. (Cf. " Tropics," " Nerve," " The 
 Great God," et al.) 
 
 132
 
 The Love of Men 133 
 
 3. The partial falling short mentioned in note 2 is 
 also owed a good deal to the angle of narration adopted 
 (S. S. M., 138:3). In this story, narration by a subor- 
 dinate actor proves in some respects disadvantageous. 
 For one thing, it gives us part of the most critical situa- 
 tion at second hand only. The early part of the journey 
 of the two friends through the swamp would be suspense 
 material of great intensity, and with another angle of ap- 
 proach, could be worked up to the chief point of emotional 
 climax, the discovery and rescue. But from the angle of 
 narration here adopted, this useful part is not available, 
 because Bossu was not with either man during this period 
 of rising suspense, and cannot report it plausibly except 
 by the indirect way of telling his anxiety. Instead, the 
 discovery and escape, in which he took a leading part per- 
 sonally, whereas the experiences of the two chief persons 
 before this climactic incident can be presented only by 
 inference, are emphasized. All this is the result pri- 
 marily of choosing the angle of narration necessary to 
 Bossu. 
 
 4. A further result of telling the story through Bossu is, 
 that Bossu tends to claim and hold our attention as much as 
 or more than the central persons do; consider (e.g.,) pars. 
 13-21, in which the two friends are introduced to us. ISTot 
 what they are, but how they affected Bossu, impresses us. 
 Bossu seems thus to dominate the interest more or less 
 elsewhere also; in pars. 66-76 he is clearly more interest- 
 ing than are the men he seeks, and in the last par. (103) 
 it is Hunchback — le Bossu — of whom we think. He has 
 a more definite and concrete personality than the central 
 persons have — once more largely the result of the angle 
 of narration. Bossu's prominence could be reduced some-
 
 134 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 what, and the narration made to appear more impersonal, 
 by dropping some of the " I said " and similar expres- 
 sions that so frequently occur in Bossu's sentences; e.g., 
 recast the first sentence of par. 18 to read, " Ah, m'sicu, 
 
 one does not see that light in ." Go through the 
 
 story making similar changes wherever possible, and note 
 the effect. As a further example, make par. 71 begin, 
 " Never was there a swamp like that one near Anse Le 
 Vert." 
 
 5. On the matters mentioned in the preceding com- 
 ments, especially that in notes 2, 3, and 4, comparison of 
 the present story with " The Cat and the Fiddle," 
 "N"erve," "The Great God," "The Opal Morning," 
 " Little Sunbeam," " A Quiet Life," will be worth while. 
 
 6. The conception of motive and consequent incident is 
 fundamentally good. The theme out of which it grows is 
 interesting and plausible — of a sort to arouse reflection, and 
 of especial appeal to men. (liote that the story appears in 
 " Adventure.") The novelty of this theme is in its favor 
 — not that it is really new, but that it is comparatively so 
 little used in our day, when (according to some) our litera- 
 ture has lost virility by devoting itself over much to love 
 themes and situations of a sort to find favor with readers 
 of women's magazines. Moreover, this conception (once we 
 accept the motivating assumption, that conflict between the 
 love of men for each other and their love for the same 
 woman might produce a state of mind in which they would 
 agree upon such a solution of their problem) becomes 
 really heroic, producing a situation as intensely romantic 
 as those found in the fiction and drama of the Elizabethan 
 periods and reminding one of the romantic situations 
 characteristic of medieval fiction down to the time of The
 
 The Love of Men 135 
 
 Morte Darthur. Our difficulty about believing in such 
 a state of mind in two men of the twentieth century may 
 perhaps be set down as an indication of modern matter- 
 of-factness and a changed point of view about the extent 
 to which the purely emotional shall be permitted to con- 
 trol our acts. Some critics may wish to throw this thought 
 into the assertion that we have lost the power to sym- 
 pathize with emotional situations that approach the heroic. 
 Others might say that it represents a different view about 
 what the elements of romance and the heroic are — for 
 example, that Lenoir, in " The Cat and the Fiddle," is 
 more heroic than the two romantic emotionalists of Bossu's 
 story. Persons who wish to be both broad and deep will 
 endeavor to appreciate and sympathize with both aspects 
 of heroism and human nature, recognizing the eternal 
 man under different forms and under changing fashions of 
 thought and art. The strangeness to us of any fundamental 
 element of human life — e.g., this form of heroic char- 
 acter — indicates our need to have the ideal of it restored 
 to influence among us. The theme and romantic basis of 
 the present story are therefore worthy to be pondered. 
 
 7. The story is exceptional in structure because in its 
 rising action there is no movement representing the essen- 
 tial part of the climax — the psychological action through 
 which the spiritual outcome is reached ; and because 
 (therefore) it has no decisive moment. This is more fully 
 discussed in the note on par. 81.
 
 THE LOVE OF MEN" 
 By ISTevil G. Henshaw 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author, from 
 
 "Adventure" for June, 1915. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1915, by the Kidgway Company) 
 
 1. After it had become sadly apparent that we would 
 see no more ducks until the evening 'passee, the little 
 hunchback, Jean Le Bossu, produced the lunch with which 
 he seemed always to be miraculously provided. We ate 
 heartily, for it was our first bite since long before sunrise, 
 and then when the last crumb was gone, stretched out be- 
 hind our blinds to enjoy that peace and contentment which 
 comes only with tobacco and a day spent in the open. 
 
 2. " And now for a story, Jean," I suggested when my 
 pipe was going and I had fixed my head so that I could 
 just catch a glimpse of the long, gray line of the Louisiana 
 coast. 
 
 3. The little man thought for a moment as he rolled 
 his pinch of tobacco into a square of brown paper. 
 
 4. " A story, m'sieu ? " he asked. " Bien. I will tell 
 you one, and I will also answer your question of this 
 morning. 
 
 5. " You remember how, just before a flight, you asked 
 me if in my position as guide I did not run across many 
 
 1-5. On openings, see S. S. M., 122-127. In this story we have 
 an introduction, not an immediate opening (S. S. M., 148:17); 
 and it is unnecessary. Its chief apology is. that its setting agrees 
 in general respects with the setting of the plot incidents (S. S. M., 
 
 136
 
 The Love of Men 137 
 
 strange events and people ? Listen now and you will hear 
 of the strangest event, the most curious people, that it has 
 ever been my lot to know." 
 
 6. It came about some years ago, in the early winter 
 when the birds were at their best. For two weeks I had 
 been with a party out near the edge of the gulf and so, 
 Avhcn they returned to Anse Le Vert and I went with them 
 to make sure that their effects departed safely, I was very 
 tired. Yet hardly had I seen them off when fresh work 
 came pulling at my elbow. 
 
 7. This time it was Laperouse, the keeper of the hotel 
 and coffee-house, and he greeted me with a shout of satis- 
 faction. 
 
 8. " Bossu," he cried. " I thought that you would 
 never return. I have looked for you every day." 
 
 9. " Yet you will look longer, you and your guests, 
 Laperouse," said L " First of all I must have some rest." 
 
 10. But Laperouse was not to be denied. 
 
 128-11), thus avoiding inharmony, and that it is brief. Against 
 the need of its employment here are: That it fails to strike the 
 keynote of emotional intensity (S. S. M., 124: 5-6; 127: 10) ; and 
 that it is unnecessary otherwise, serving none of the usual pur- 
 poses mentioned in S. S. M., 127:9; 130, end of 12; 134:20; 
 135 : 21 ; 137 : 2 ; 140 : 7-8 ; 149 : 18-19. To prove that this intro- 
 duction is not essential, and therefore is artistically a mistake, 
 omit it entirely, beginning at once with par. 6. The real strength 
 and interest of the story at once stand out more evidently. 
 
 6-9. Try rearranging the sentences in these paragraphs in this 
 order: 1, 4, 5, 6, 7,^2,], [3 omitted], 8. Recast [2] thus: "For 
 two weeks I have been with a party; I am very tired." The 
 revised form has more vigor; it gets rid of prolix explanation 
 in par. 5, and brings action on more quickly (dialogue is a form 
 of action; S. S. M., 229:2; 234:10), substituting speech by one 
 of the persons for historical statement by the author.
 
 138 Toi>ay's Shout Stouies Analyzed 
 
 11. "All, no, Bossii," ho insisted. ''This will be a 
 rest. There arc but two of them, and they swear that they 
 will have no one save yourself. Of eourse it is to my ad- 
 vantaji^e ' to keep them, but if they stay longer they will 
 drive me mad. Come, Jean. You cannot refuse. There 
 will be good money in it also." 
 
 12. And thus he went on until we had reached the 
 coifee-housc, and he had dragged me inside. 
 
 13. The two who were so anxious for my services are 
 not hard of description. They were young, they were 
 
 11. Is this stronfj desire for Bossu as the indispensable guide 
 sufficiently motivated (S. S. M., 96:10)? Why did St. Mar and 
 Prevost want Bossu so much above any other guide that they 
 would thus postpone their trial — on which, according to par. 
 18 and other passages, they were so feverishly set? Is this part 
 consistent with the situation outlined? Is it one of the things 
 that make Bossu seem unduly important, as mentioned in intro- 
 ductory note 3? Was there a reason, since they would use no 
 guide, why any boatman could not have served them? Or did 
 they want Bossu because of his reputation — a man they could 
 depend on to wait for the survivor beyond the swamp, and bring 
 him out? Or was it that the unusual nature of the expedition 
 demanded a man who would respect confidences and understand 
 the motive of the two friends (par. 48)? Whatever the reason 
 (if there be one) is it sufficiently indicated to support the 
 emphasis of Bossu's importance that results from this phase of 
 the incident? Cf. pars. 16-17, 44-46, 48, 79, 88.—' Is the phrase 
 bookish and conventional? Watch for others of like etfect and 
 decide if they are incongruous (S. S. M., 236:12-13; 242:2-3; 
 244:7; 91:13-14). 
 
 12. Would anything be gained by splitting par. 11 in two, and 
 introducing par. 12 (with any needed rewording) between the 
 parts (after sentence 4)? 
 
 13. Cf . note on par. 11, " to my advantage." The occurrence of 
 stilted, formal, stiff, bookish, or conventional phrasing blemishes 
 style, and frequently indicates incomplete mastery of the pen. 
 The paragraph will be improved by omitting sentence 1 alto- 
 gether, and beginning with sentence 2 (change " They " into " The
 
 The Love of Men 139 
 
 from the city, and they were of French descent. Both 
 were strong-limbed and muscular, as from a life of care, 
 and in age, in weight, and in height there was little dif- 
 ference between them. Perhaps the one who was called 
 St. Mar was a little the older, since it was he who first ad- 
 dressed me.^ 
 
 14. " You are Jean Le Bossu," he asked. 
 
 15. " I am he, m'sieu," I replied. 
 
 16. " Good," he returned. " And now, since my friend 
 Prevost and I have already waited for you several days, 
 we need waste no time in haggling. We wish to go upon 
 a hunting expedition, and, through the recommendation 
 of friends, we particularly want you as our guide. We 
 will need your boat, and supplies for a week. Also we 
 wish to start no later than tomorrow morning. Here is 
 my bill-book. After you have arranged for everything, 
 take out what you consider your services worth." ^ 
 
 17. Now this, m'sieu, was a pretty compliment. Tired 
 though I was, I could not help but appreciate it. A mo- 
 
 two"). — Is the description concrete enough? We know some- 
 thing of Bossu's appearance, but what do the two persons-in- 
 ehief look like? Should they be individualized? Cf. S. S. M., 
 222:9; 224:12; 182:6; 209:3-212; 162:17; 258, description.— 
 ^ A touch of social characterization, because it hints of the 
 precedence that custom among people of French extraction allows 
 to the elder and the deference it imposes on the younger. 
 
 16. * A double-edged character hint, characterizing both Bossu 
 and St. Mar. It also tends to intensify our feeling of signifleance 
 in the situation that is developing. 
 
 17. The closing sentence is a good touch of characterization, 
 revealing experience and knowledge of men in Bossu. It and the 
 remaining paragraphs as far as par. 21 also show good manage- 
 ment of motivation. The same paragraphs may also be regarded 
 an interest tickler; they lead us to wonder if after all this is 
 merely some sort of treasure-hunting incident. (Note that, in
 
 140 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 lucut I stood Avitli the bill-book in my haiKl, framing my 
 refusal, and as I did so my eye caught a certain strange 
 light in that of M'sicu St. Mar. 
 
 18. Ah, m'sieu, I had seen that light before, though 
 not in the eyes of huntsmen. It was one of anxiety, of 
 impatience, of that nerve-racking suspense when each mo- 
 ment of waiting is a year of torture. Looking quickly at 
 M'sieu Prevost, I surprised the same light in his eyes. It 
 was then that I understood Laperouse's desire to be rid 
 of his restless guests. It was then also that, despite my 
 weariness, I changed my mind. 
 
 19. ^' So," said I to myself. " Your trouble is easy to 
 read, my friends. One of you has in his pocket an ancient 
 chart of this coast, and upon that chart a cross marks the 
 resting-place of buried treasure. Xow I, who all my life 
 have sought unsuccessfully for one of these gifts of M'sieu 
 Lafitte, am still of a mind to try. There, I will go with 
 you." 
 
 20. But aloud I only said : 
 
 21. " Bien, m'sicu. It shall be as you wish." 
 
 so far as Bossu's conclusion misleads us into agreeing with him, 
 it is a surprise device, for we are soon to find the conclusion 
 wrong. This kind of surprise we may call internal surprise, in 
 distinction from the surprise that develops only at the end, with 
 a surprise-plot. S. S. M., 39-40; 117 : 5.) 
 
 19. Observe the gain by reason of the concrete expression. The 
 same thought, but not the same vividness, force, and interest 
 would have been there if the passage ran thus: So you are look- 
 ing for buried treasure. 
 
 20. Consistently through the story Bossu shows himself a man 
 who can see and see through, but keep his mouth in repose. 
 
 21. Here ends the first movement of the story — its preparatory 
 stage. In the paragraphs that it includes (6-21) we have the 
 three persons of the story presented, with fragmentary charac- 
 terization (more complete as to Bossu) ; a situation indicated,
 
 The Love of Men 141 
 
 22. We left next morning at sunrise and, as we dropped 
 down the bayou to the bay, M'sieu St. Mar came aft to 
 my post at the tiller. 
 
 23. " And which shall it be, m'sieu ? " I inquired. 
 " Drake Island for ducks, or the passes for geese ? Or 
 will you try both ? " 
 
 24. But M'sieu St. Mar shook his head, turning and 
 pointing behind us. 
 
 25. '' N'either, Le Bossu," he replied. " We are bound 
 for that great cypress swamp which stretches out to the 
 westward of Anse Le Vert. By coasting around, how long 
 will it take you to reach its outer edge ? " 
 
 26. " You mean the Pointe Noire, of course," said I. 
 
 with unexplained elements of intensity growing out of the impa- 
 tience and anxiety of the two chief actors; a forecast of the 
 mood of the story (atmosphere), produced by the same unex- 
 plained cause that produces the anxiety; and the real plot-action 
 prepared for, though not actually begun. — On the other hand, 
 the exposition is left incomplete, only enough being given to 
 indicate the tenseness of the situation, whatever it be, in which 
 the two chief actors find themselves. In this story, the post- 
 ponement of the complete exposition is one of the means of pro- 
 ducing suspense. We are kept wondering about the reason of 
 all this suppressed and suffering eagerness until we reach the 
 fourth movement (pars, 49 ff.); then only is the exposition com- 
 pleted by revealing the generating circumstance, or source of 
 conflict. 
 
 22. Second movement begins. 
 
 23. Bossu (as already indicated by his narrative) is accustomed 
 to dealing with men. This experience now shows itself (together 
 with a touch of subterfuge) in the question he puts to draw out 
 the purpose of the expedition. 
 
 25. St. Mar's answer accomplishes two narrative purposes — it 
 increases our uncertainty about the purpose of the two men, and 
 it introduces us to the setting of the main events, i.e., the swamp. 
 
 26. Adds to our knowledge of the scene of action by conveying 
 an idea of the size and desolateness of the swamp, and further
 
 142 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 " We can iiiake it bv snn?et. But surely, m'sieu, you do 
 not intend to Inmt there ? At this season the marsh is 
 burnt off by deer-hunters, and at best it is deserted. 
 Upon the edge of the swamp there is naught save large 
 game, and you have only your shotguns." 
 
 27. " Just the same we will try it," replied M'sieu St. 
 Mar, and with that he returned to where he had left his 
 companion in the bow. 
 
 28. Thus, m'sieu, I took my course, and as I went I 
 wondered much. As I have said, I knew from the first 
 that our journey was not to be made in the interests of 
 game. Also I had thought that my employers were in 
 search of treasure. 
 
 29. But now, with the Pointe Xoire as my destina- 
 tion, I knew not what to think. That Lafitte should have 
 buried treasure in such a desolate, inaccessible place with 
 its treacherous, shifting marsh was well nigh impossible. 
 Also, even if treasure were there, my employers had 
 brought aboard no pick, or spade, or other utensil wuth 
 which to unearth it. What then was the object of their 
 expedition ? 
 
 30. All that morning the two held their place in the 
 bow, and if they spoke to each other their words did not 
 reach me. At noon, when I lay to and cooked their meal, 
 their silence was the same. It was the dreadful, breath- 
 
 heightens uncertainty by apparently eliminating hunting as the 
 aim of the party. Pars. 28-29 further increase the uncertainty 
 by removing treasure as the object. 
 
 30. Accelerated movement; passage of time conveyed in con- 
 densed statement. Besides the intensification of mood accom- 
 plished, this and the following three paragraphs are mainly serv- 
 iceable for their indication of lapse of time. Observe the method 
 — a time expression in the first sentence of 30; a bit of amplified
 
 The Love of Men 143 
 
 less silence of those who are waiting for something — for 
 something that, when it comes, will not be good to see.^ 
 
 31. Once I made some remark about the prospects for 
 game but no advantage was taken of mj words. M'sieu 
 St. Mar glanced hurriedly away toward the marsh to hide 
 the torture in his eyes. M'sieu Prevost muttered some- 
 thing in his throat that had the sound of " Dieu." 
 
 32. As for myself, I felt as if I had spoken in church ; 
 and when, their meal finished, the two departed for the 
 bow again, I made the sign of the cross. 
 
 33. That was a journey to be remembered, m'sieu. It 
 was like one of those terrible dreams in which one is 
 divided between the desire to awake and the wish to sleep 
 on and know the end. 
 
 34. We made the Pointe Noire at sunset and stood in 
 toward the ruined hut upon its tip, beneath a sky that was 
 like blood. 
 
 episode in the noon-day incident; and the suggestion of long- 
 drawn-out journey in par. 33. On the plot as the carrier of con- 
 centrative material, see S. S. M., 107 ff. — ^ Why is the indefinite 
 expression at the end more effective than some positive phrasing 
 would be (e.g., will be awful, horrible, intolerable)? 
 
 32-33. Realization of mood accomplished by indicating the ef- 
 fect of the immediate situation on an observer. Mood is the main 
 element of the atmosphere throughout the story; i.e., emotional 
 coloring; S. S. M., 25:4 (d) ; all sec. XI (pp. 54ff.) 167:24. 
 
 34-48. The third movement begins. The amount of action in it 
 is not large, but is important; for at last we learn what the two 
 men, purpose. As this satisfies our interest in their intention, 
 the suspense would slacken unless our curiosity were directed to 
 new questions. This is accomplished by making us wonder why 
 they should plan so foolhardy an attempt and by provoking us 
 to wonder whether they can accomplish their aim. — Note the 
 frequency in all fiction, as here, with which suspense depends
 
 144 Toivw's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 35. All, nrsieu, that was a place to suit tlic mood of 
 niv oni]iloycrs. There was no beach, no marsh, no pjreen 
 of any kind. Only the rotten, wave-eaten bank, with its 
 toppling hut and its litter of bones and shells. Back of 
 
 mainly on conflict. The crossinfz; of the swamp will be a ten-ific 
 struggle of men against physical conditions. Note further of 
 this particular story, that it has a larger number of conflicts 
 than is common. The basic conflict is that of the love between 
 men and the love of man for woman. But involved in the moti- 
 vating or the incident, or in both, are also the conflict between 
 personal desire and the generous unselfishness of friendship ; 
 between the love of life and the despair of happiness that will 
 result with the loss of the woman; the struggle of mere endur- 
 ance, of mental and spiritual resolution, until the trial shall be 
 past (see pars. 18, 30-33, etc.); and the struggle with nature 
 which their proposed solution of the spiritual problem requires. 
 Ordinarily, in the conte, the conflict should be single, simple, and 
 clean-cut; the novel is more appropriate for recounting the 
 struggle of diverse and complicated impulses and forces. But 
 in this story, the various struggles are merely asj^ects or conse- 
 quences of the basic conflict, and as such are not necessarily 
 ojiposed to essential unity. Possibly, however, this assertion 
 should be modified. The physical struggle involved in crossing 
 the swamp results from the spiritual conflict, but, on account of 
 the emphasis necessary to make us realize its fierceness, it tends 
 to ovei-shadow the spiritual conflict. (This is because, to portray 
 the severity of the physical struggle, great material realism is 
 necessai-y; cf. pars. 71-80, 92, 99.) — This movement is largely 
 expositional and coneentrative. It now dwells on and details 
 what pars. 25-26 introduced — the swamp as the setting of the 
 action that is to come (on the placing of this part of the descrip- 
 tion, see S. S. IM., 165:21-22), with constant emphasis on its 
 terrors. Attend to the use of epithets and other words of con- 
 crete descriptive fact. Pick out the passages by which the 
 atmospheric tone of the story is maintained; cf. note on pars. 
 32-33 and decide if realization of the atmosphere has been in- 
 creased. How? 
 
 35. Details selected with reference to the effect to be produced; 
 S. S. M., 65 : 16.
 
 The Love of Men 145 
 
 the point the burned-out marsh lay black and lifeless, its 
 pools and sloughs scummed thick with ashes until they 
 were like the eyes of the blind. Upon three sides this 
 desolation was shut in by the gray waters of the bay, while 
 upon its fourth the great cypress swamp lay rusty-red 
 across the horizon. And over all that crimson sky burned 
 slowly out like some beacon of disaster. 
 
 36. In silence we landed, in silence we ate our evening 
 meal, and then when I felt that I could bear no more 
 M'sieu St. Mar spoke. 
 
 37. " That swamp there ? " he began. " How long 
 would it take one to pass through it to Anse Le Vert ? " 
 
 38. " That is hard to say, m'sieu," I replied, " since 
 few care even to try its edge. One man, Jacques Bernard, 
 went through without food or ammunition, and his story 
 will be told while the last tall cypress stands. He says 
 that he was inside many lifetimes, although he expected 
 but two days." 
 
 36. Observe how the heavy, oppressive passage of time is sug- 
 gested. 
 
 38. Few actual measurements are given anywhere in the story; 
 the size of the swamp, the periods of time, etc., are suggested or 
 stated indirectly. How long, for instance, was occupied in reach- 
 ing Pointe Noire, and how is this period indicated? Even here, 
 the extent of the swamp is to be gathered only from the indirect 
 suggestion that one man had estimated two days as necessary for 
 traversing it. Observe again the indication of its great difficulty 
 — " many lifetimes." Then note that this method of measuring 
 is much more impressive than that of stating dimensions, hours, 
 and the like. A swamp of this nature, if traversable in two days, 
 might be from 12 to 20 miles across — scarcely more. Substitute 
 now the mere mileage, and make the paragraph say, " May be 
 25, may be 30 miles." At once much of sense of its terror is 
 lost. As a matter of fact, the miles are a matter of indifference, 
 for what is to be measured is human endurance and suffering. —
 
 14G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 39. " And if one were to have a compass and ammuni- 
 tion, what then ? " asked M'sieu Prevost, speaking to me 
 for the first time that day. 
 
 40. " Perhaps it would be the same, m'sieu," I re- 
 turned, " There are still the poisons, the fevers, and 
 above all the mosquitoes, to be conquered. You cannot 
 shoot a mosquito, m'sieu, yet in the swamp he is 
 death." 
 
 41. " Yet my friend and I are going through," said 
 M'sieu St. Mar. " We start at sunrise, without food, but 
 with a compass and gun. You will go back and meet us 
 at the narrow neck that runs out near Anse Le Vert." 
 
 42. For a while I was silent through sheer amazement. 
 Then, gathering myself together, I spoke my word. 
 
 43. " M'sieu," said I, " I will not ask you if you are 
 joking, since it is very evident that you are not. Also, 
 as your affairs are your owm, I will not ask you if you 
 arc mad. But if you and your companion are going to 
 attempt the passage of that swamp, then must I take back 
 some story to the mainland, wherew^ith to account for your 
 deaths. I am waiting for the story, m'sieu." 
 
 We here have for several paragraphs (combined with distributed 
 expository detail), consequential exposition (S. S. M., 171:4); 
 on distribution of detail, S. S. M., 80 : 4 ff . 
 
 43. One difficulty that the author has to meet in presenting this 
 plot is, the unusualness of its theme and situation ; he has to 
 overcome a feeling in the reader of its improbability. In this 
 paragi-aph he partly removes that feeling by inserting this most 
 natural and reasonable demand of Bossu's. Through Bossu he 
 virtually says, " This certainly is a strange thing. I can see 
 you are in earnest, but frankly the ordinary man will find it 
 hard to understand." In law this would be a " plea in confes- 
 sion and avoidance," acknowledging an allegation but presenting 
 an explanation that justifies the matter complained of. In par. 
 48, the author, still through Bossu, reinforces his justification.
 
 The Love of Men 147 
 
 44. At this M'sieu St. Mar smote his palms together 
 like one who is well satisfied. 
 
 45. " Good," said he. " I knew that we would not be 
 disappointed in you, Le Bossu." 
 
 46. M'sieu Prevost nodded, and for a moment his hand 
 lay upon the shoulder of the other. 
 
 47. " Yes," he agreed. " Let us tell him all. It is 
 his due." 
 
 48. And so they told me; and, as they did so, all the 
 pent-up thoughts and words of that day burst forth in a 
 torrent of speech. Also, strange though it may seem, I 
 think that I understood. At least I grasped their idea, 
 which was more than many would have done. Perhaps, 
 in my poor words, you will find it hard yourself, m'sieu ; 
 but had you been there to hear them, you would have 
 known. 
 
 49. They had been friends since childhood — the sort 
 of friends that are closer than brothers. Living side by 
 side in the city, sharing their pleasures, their griefs, even 
 
 49. Fourth movement begins. — Up to par. 57, it consists of 
 exposition. Here we find an instance of massed exposition, post- 
 poned until the story is half told ; S. S. M., 79-85. This reveals 
 to us the fact that (putting the artificial beginning aside, as 
 irrelevant) the opening of the narrative plunged us into action 
 that represented the crisis already well advanced (S. S. M., 
 122-151, especially 122-126 ; 127 : 9 ; 135 : 138) . See also S.S. M., 
 153 : 4-6. Here review pars. 6-21, as the real opening. Read 
 S. S. M., 127: 9-11 and 140 : 7-8, and consider whether this open- 
 ing strikes the keynote, or whether we catch the mood of the 
 story only as we pass further; and whether the opening is strong 
 in the elements of suspense. Finally, ask whether pars. 1-5 
 justify themselves by affording a hint of the setting wherein 
 the action will work itself out. — On the tendency of the conte. 
 tQ deal with the crisis only at its height, see S. S. M., 15-18»
 
 148 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 their youthful possessions, they had, at the age of man- 
 hood, become inseparable. Together they had entered 
 business, together they had taken their leisure, spending 
 long days in the wild in that close companionship which is 
 born only of the tent and blanket. 
 
 50. And then, m'sicu, a woman came along — a woman 
 with whom both fell in love. There was no jealousy, no 
 bitterness, none of those dark things which are said also 
 to be fair in war. Each loved deeply, each felt for the 
 other, each offered unsuccessfully to sacrifice himself. 
 
 51. Then there was nothing to do. 
 
 52. Ah, m'sieu, can you not see it ? They could not 
 fight, since there was no anger. They could not forego 
 their chances, since both were firm in refusal. The friend- 
 ship of each became even stronger, nourished by the 
 thought of the other's pain. Yet ever in their hearts was 
 a torment of hopeless love that gnawed unceasingly, driv- 
 ing them to despair. ' 
 
 53. And then, when all was at its worst, there came to 
 them the story of Jacques Bernard. Perhaps you have 
 heard it, m'sieu, of how Bernard, marooned upon the 
 Pointe ISToire, set forth through the swamp without food 
 or ammunition to save his wife from the fever at Anse 
 Le Vert. 
 
 54. The friends listened to the story, and when they 
 had thought over it there came to them an idea. Bernard 
 had faced the swamp through love of a woman. Why 
 should they not do the same ? Both were young, both were 
 experienced, the chances would be equal. 
 
 55. If they started without food from different points, 
 
 50. Generating circumstance and initial response; S. S. M., 
 74 : A ; 85 : 1-3 ; 154 : 7 (italics) .
 
 The Love of Men 149 
 
 the god of Luck would decide the matter, sending the rare 
 game of that desolate place to the fortunate one. From 
 what they had heard it was inconceivable that both should 
 win through. Therefore, he who was favored would have 
 all clear before him. If both remained inside, it would 
 still be as good a method as any of settling their difficulty. 
 
 56. Perhaps they were mad, m'sieu, but what could I 
 do ? That they were weary of their lot beyond argument 
 was proven to me before I had uttered a dozen words. 
 
 57. " Bien," said I. " Your blood be upon your own 
 heads ! I will wait for you as you ask, but you must give 
 me a paper explaining your disappearance. They would 
 laugh at your story at Anse Le Vert." 
 
 58. " And how long will you wait for us ? " asked 
 M'sieu Prevost while M'sieu St. Mar wrote the paper. 
 
 59. " A week," I replied. " If you are not out by 
 then, you will never be." 
 
 60. That night we slept in the hut and, when I 
 awakened my employers at sunrise, they went about their 
 preparations briskly.^ Each took a gun, some shells, a 
 compass, blankets, and many matches. Also each drew 
 for position, M'sieu St. Mar taking the bay, or outer side, 
 M'sieu Prevost the one that was lost in the burnt-out 
 marsh. Then, when all was ready, I gave them my final 
 advice. 
 
 61. " Choose always high ground for camping, and 
 
 57. Repetition of consequential exposition, 
 
 60. ' This one word portrays the change in temporary mood 
 natural to the immediate situation, when the tedious waiting time 
 was past and action was at hand; compare the feeling of soldiers 
 while waiting to go into battle with their relief when the charge 
 is ordered. — The rest of the paragraph, like some others, consists 
 of details introduced mainly for realistic verisimilitude.
 
 150 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 sleep with your head in the smoke of your smudge," I 
 told them. " Also, seek no trail. Bear ever east and, if 
 you live, you will arrive." 
 
 62. At parting they shook hands in silence, despite the 
 look in their eyes. Ah, m'sieu, who could describe that 
 look, its weariness, its hope — its pain. It was as if each 
 were saying to the other — ^' pray God you win," and to 
 himself — " may I stay inside." 
 
 63. Yet I knew that each would strive to the bitter end 
 through that scorn of death which alone had kept them 
 both alive. 
 
 64. After they had gone I stood and watched them ; 
 and as they disappeared into the black desert that sepa- 
 rated them from their goal, a vague, moving cloud formed 
 slowly above the head of each. The wind blew stale ^ and 
 warm from an empty ^ sky, and on it many other little 
 clouds drifted silently in toward the swamp. 
 
 65. Thus I left the two, already in the grip of their 
 enemies, while from far and near above that dreadful 
 wilderness the tiny whining pests gathered together to 
 seek the feast that was prepared for them. 
 
 66. And so I returned whence I had come, m'sieu, and 
 went up through the marsh to that narrow neck which the 
 
 62. Once more a natural shift of temporary mood. 
 
 64-66. The movement is made to close with a return to the 
 dominant mood of the story as a whole, conveyed in mention of 
 realistic details that form part of the immediate setting and belong 
 from this time on to the situation. S. S. M., 165-107 may be con- 
 sulted. — ' Note the effectiveness of these words, and of the 
 other epithets and descriptive adjectives in the two paragraphs. 
 
 66. Fifth movement begins. — On the passage over from one 
 stage to another, see S. S. M., 151 : 1 ; 107, note.
 
 The Love of Men 151 
 
 swamp thrusts out near Anse Le Vert. Four days I 
 waited on my boat, and upon the fifth I took medicines 
 and supplies, and made my way inside. 
 
 67. Perhaps I was mad to attempt it, yet there was 
 that within me which drove me on. Indeed, had it not 
 been for the sheer uselessness of it, I would have gone 
 upon the first day. 
 
 08. You do not know, m'sieu. Those four days of 
 waiting were a torture. All through them I sat upon the 
 deck of my boat, gazing out at the rusty, prison-like walls 
 of the swamp and thinking of what must be going on in- 
 side. All through them I came each moment to know bet- 
 ter that dreadful suspense which had sealed the lips of 
 my employers. 
 
 69. " No," I said to myself on that fifth day. " I can 
 stand no more. If they are alive, they must by now be 
 near the neck. I will go in one day's journey and meet 
 them." 
 
 70. Now you, m'sieu, who have hunted much, have 
 known times of hardship. I, who have hunted more, have 
 known them also. Yet if all those times were rolled into 
 one it would not be as an hour of that journey of mine. 
 
 71. True, I had known swamps, having entered them 
 often, but never had I known that there could be the like 
 of that one near Anse Le Vert. Underfoot was the black, 
 oily water, foul with decay, dotted with innumerable shiny 
 
 67-69. Is his decision motivated with sufficient clearness? Is it 
 convincing? If so, would you regard the paragraphs as an effec- 
 tive characterization of Bossu? Do they support the criticism 
 made in introductory note No. 4? Can you find any passages in 
 which either St. Mar or Prevost is characterized as adequately? 
 
 71-72. Study the selection of details to fit the intended effect, 
 comparing pars. 35, 64-65, the note on 35 and the closing part of
 
 152 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 cypress-knees that tripped the foot at every stride. Over- 
 head was the dense, rusty canopy of leaf and branch, 
 blotting out the clean blue of heaven, strangling the very 
 air itself that sought to cleanse the poisons and vapors 
 below. And between, the trees grew^ thick and close, shut- 
 ting in the view on every side, each of them fluted, each 
 of them tapering, until the mind grew sick with their 
 monotony. 
 
 72. Of life there was naught save the snakes and tur- 
 tles that dropped from their logs with a single, thump- 
 ing splash. Of sound there was only the ceaseless whine 
 of the mosquitoes that bit and stabbed with their tiny, 
 poisoned bills. 
 
 73. It was terrible, m'sieu. It was like the dark, 
 empty shell of a world in which all was dead save suffering 
 and despair. That afternoon, when I could go no farther, 
 I built my smudge upon a knoll, and there I lay half con- 
 scious amid the droning, whirling swarm of my tor- 
 mentors. 
 
 74. But if that first day had been hard, the second was 
 harder still, for I w^as bruised by a hundred falls, and 
 already the poison was beginning to run in my veins. Yet 
 that which was within me drove me ever forward, and so 
 I went on, stumbling, tripping, calling aloud, until once 
 more, near sunset, I made my camp upon a knoll. This 
 time I drank deep of the brandy that I carried, and while 
 it burned I took my reason in both hands. 
 
 that on 34. All these paragraphs present local color in the set- 
 ting. — Note how the description retards the movement and thus 
 creates the illusion of the passage of time. 
 
 73. Observe the climactic effect as the description passes from 
 realistic particulars to figurative expression.
 
 The Love of Men 153 
 
 75. "You have done enough, Bossu," I told myself. 
 " Already you have gone too far. The two are lost beyond 
 doubt. In the morning you will return." 
 
 76. Then, even as I made this decision, there came 
 from afar a faint sound of splashing. Nearer it grew, 
 while I ran forward shouting, and then, through one of 
 the innumerable alleys of the tree-trunks, I saw the figure 
 of a man. 
 
 77. Slowly he came, staggering and falling, and by the 
 rags of his clothes I knew that it was M'sieu St. Mar. 
 His face was swollen beyond recognition, his eyes were 
 all but closed. Erom the puff of his lips there came an 
 endless babble of words, and each time that he fell he 
 screamed aloud. His gun was gone, also his blankets, but 
 in one hand he still clutched the charred and mangled 
 fragments of a turtle. 
 
 78. " M'sieu ! " I cried, and for an instant reason 
 flashed into his brain. 
 
 79. " Bossu ! " he gasped. " Thank God." 
 
 80. Then he fell once more and, as he screamed, I 
 caught the sound of a name that was Prevost. 
 
 81. After that it was work, with food, with brandy 
 
 75. From par. 66 to par. 75 resistant delay is strong (S. S. M., 
 155, italics. Note the difference between this and anticipatory 
 delay, explained in S. S. M., p. 74, note.) 
 
 76. The coming of the height of the climax is sudden ; hence 
 there is something of the effect of surprise. — The unpleasant 
 realistic detail of several of the succeeding paragraphs suggests 
 consideration of the question, how far may realism go in pre- 
 senting what is painful or horrible? Does the present story cross 
 the line? How much farther could it go without doing so? 
 
 81. Last sentence: here we have the first indication of the out- 
 come — St. Mar's first thought is not of the woman, but of Prevost. 
 It is indicated fully in par. 88, and repeated with reference to
 
 154 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 and with quinine, until near the break of dawn M'sieu St. 
 ^lar spoke with reason again. Also, as had been the case 
 whenever the sharp points of the cypress-knees had driven 
 the spark of consciousness into his brain, his first word 
 was Prcvost. 
 
 82. " You have found him ? " he asked. 
 
 83. " No," I replied. " Xor will I ever do so. You 
 have won, m'sieu." 
 
 84. But M'sieu St. Mar staggered to his feet in a sud- 
 den outburst, half delirium, half fury. 
 
 85. " Then go to him while I crawl behind," he cried. 
 " Or I will crawl in front, if you have no courage in your 
 soul." 
 
 86. " Bien, m'sieu," said I as quietly as I could. 
 " But you must first regain some strength. I am only 
 doing the best that I can." 
 
 Prevost in par. 100. This raises the question, where came the 
 decisive moment? So far as the spiritual outcome (the impor- 
 tant thing in this story) is concerned, the decisive moment came 
 some time while the two men were struggling through the swamp 
 (pars. 88, 100). But because (owing to the angle of narration 
 adopted) we know nothing of this struggle except its outcome, 
 we have here a story not only without any decisive moment in 
 the action, but also without any presentation of the most impor- 
 tant period of the action itself — the emotional part that gave 
 the two their clear vision. Although we called pars. 66-75 a pas- 
 sage that functions as resistant delay, this is true only of the 
 physical (or objective), not of the spiritual outcome. For while 
 Bossu waited and searched and the two men toiled through the 
 swamp, the subjective action that brings the spiritual outcome 
 is also going on — in the emotions of St. Mar and Prevost. Struc- 
 turally, therefore, this story is exceptional — all accounted for by 
 the angle of narration. (So far as the mere objective or phys- 
 ical outcome is concerned — that is, the bringing out of the men 
 alive — the decisive moment may perhaps be regarded as that 
 when Bossu determined to go into the swamp after them.)
 
 The Love of Men 155 
 
 87. At this he lay back willingly enough, and as he did 
 so his hand sought mine. Then he began to speak, slowly, 
 with long pauses between his words. 
 
 88. " Forgive me, Jean," said he, " I know that you 
 — will understand. Also, while my mind is clear, you 
 must understand something else. You say that I have — 
 won? I tell you that I have lost all — the greater love. 
 We were mad, Jean. We did not know. The swamp has 
 taught me — among other things. The woman-love was 
 but one of months. Ours was from the beginning." 
 
 89. He lay a long time silent, and by the gray light of 
 dawn I could see the shine of tears in his terrible eyes. 
 
 90. " Prevost ! " he murmured. " My poor Prevost. 
 We had gone through life hand in hand." 
 
 91. " As you will do again, if God is willing, m'sieu," 
 I encouraged him. " Come, we must lay our plans. You 
 have seen him — inside ? " 
 
 92. " A million times in my delirium," replied M'sieu 
 St. Mar. " Once at a moment when my mind was clear. 
 It was this morning, and he was bearing north. Like 
 myself he had lost his gun. I called to him — I waved my 
 food — but he was worse than I, and could not hear. Then 
 I fell, and when I got to my feet again he had disappeared. 
 I was following him when you came along." 
 
 93. I shook my head. 
 
 94. " You were bearing east, the direction that was 
 stamped upon your brain, m'sieu," said I. " Otherwise 
 I would not have found you. But your words are en- 
 couraging. At noon, if you are able, we will bear north 
 until nightfall. Then, if we would live, we must turn 
 back. Better the one to die than all." 
 
 95. But M'sieu St. Mar made a movement of refusal.
 
 15G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 9G. '* Bettor for you, Jean, yes, but not for me," he 
 replied. '* I will go on until the end." 
 
 97. We left at noon, and how M'sieu St. Mar forced 
 his tortured, exhausted body into the effort, I cannot say. 
 Gasping, swaying, fighting hard his fever and his mad- 
 ness, he staggered along beside me, and as he went my 
 own poor sufferings were forgotten in the greatness of his 
 soul. 
 
 98. " Dieu!" I said to myself. " It is your end also, 
 Bossu. Our search is useless, and tomorrow you will never 
 leave him." 
 
 99. But God was good, and we found Prevost not three 
 hours' journey from our knoll. He lay with his head in 
 the hollow of a tree-trunk, a poor, tattered rag of a man 
 who, having done all, could do no more. Speechless he 
 was, and with tight-closed eyes, yet at the cry of his com- 
 panion he staggered forward holding out both arms. 
 
 100. Thus they met and, in that gesture of M'sieu 
 Prevost, I knew that he also had learned a lesson of the 
 swamp. 
 
 101. And then we came out, m'sieu. It took four 
 days, and it was very hard. Perhaps another could de- 
 scribe it. I cannot. There are some things of which one 
 is unable to tell. 
 
 98. See S. S. M., 74, note. Considering only what we have 
 called the objective action, or physical struggle of the men to win 
 through the swamp, where does the anticipatory delay begin? 
 What paragraph marks the point of final suspense? Are there 
 other points of similar suspense in it? In what paragraphs? 
 
 101. The separate ending begins. Is it indispensable (S. S. M., 
 169: 1, 2, 3) ? Is it less open to objection than was the separate 
 opening?
 
 The Love of Men 157 
 
 102. Afterward we regained our strength at Anse Le 
 Vert, and when the two departed it was in that peace 
 which had made the happiness of their younger days. 
 Many gifts they gave me, but most precious of all was the 
 memory that they left behind. 
 
 103, Ah, m'sieu, it means much to me — the little, 
 twisted Bossu who is without a mate. Often, when all 
 have gathered about the fire, I hear the others speak of 
 that love of woman which I have never known. It is then 
 that I smile to myself, who alone have seen that greater, 
 rarer love of men. 
 
 103. Is the introduction of the title in the closing words espe- 
 cially effective, or is it artificial'? Assume that par. 100 closes the 
 ptory, and compare the effect.
 
 ISTEKVE 
 
 The Stoky as a Whole 
 
 1. An excellent example of the " pure theme " story 
 (S. S. M., 26-36, especially 31 : 14-15) ; should be compared 
 with '" The Unknown," " The Last Eose of Summer," 
 " In the Matter of Distance," " A Quiet Life," " The 
 Love of Men," " The Song," " The Defective," " Miss 
 Mitty and the Ages Hence," " The Opal Morning," and 
 " The Great God," in noting different ways in which 
 themes may support the story and be presented. 
 
 2. Its opening is in the nature of a philosophical pre- 
 lude, the particular usefulness of which here is to em- 
 phasize the theme (S. S. M., 122-150). But it also strikes 
 the keynote, or prepares us in mood for the scene, persons 
 and action of the story proper — its atmosphere — by bring- 
 ing us into its own setting of outlying, semi-outlaw set- 
 tlement. Cf. especially S. S. M., 125:6; 127:10-11; 
 132 : 16 ; 135 : 21 ; 136-140 ; 147, note 11 ; and see S. S. M., 
 33:18. 
 
 3. It is based in part on delicate motivation, making 
 necessary a rather intricate machinery of fact in order to 
 create the situation necessary for the central plot action. 
 See the running explanation, par. 43. 
 
 4. It helps us to realize how fiction, as an interpreter 
 of life, always goes back to and founds itself upon human 
 nature and its manifestations in individual and social 
 standards. See the comment on par. 75. 
 
 5. Is a story in which the carrying-plot and its devel- 
 
 158
 
 Nerve 159 
 
 opment occupies less space than is commonly the case, in 
 proportion to the length of the story as a whole. The de- 
 velojDment of the dramatic plot (excluding expositional 
 matter) begins only with par. 42. Sufficient explanatory 
 comment will be found in the running notes.
 
 NEKVE 
 
 By William Slavins 
 
 Reprinted from " Collier's Weekly " for September 20, 1913, by 
 
 Permission. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1913) 
 
 1. The wind and sleet of a December storm had ren- 
 dered navigation in the plank street of the little town hud- 
 dled at the foot of the Coast Range of the ISTorthern British 
 Columbia Mountains well nigh impossible and had evi- 
 dently driven all the " fine ones " to the shelter of their 
 own shacks, for the " Poker Parlor " was deserted, with 
 the exception of three old-timers and myself, who sat 
 around the cannon stove, listening to the storm devils howl, 
 cursing the country and profanely assuring each other 
 that any man who was fool enough to get caught in such 
 a country in the winter time deserved all the hardship he 
 underwent and not a bit of sympathy ! 
 
 2. The old-timers grew reminiscent as the hour grew 
 late, and the talk drifted around to the early days on the 
 Western plains. 
 
 3. At the mention of some old plainsman's name, Dick 
 
 1-2. By putting us into sympathy with the atmosphere of the 
 prelude-situation, prepares us for the atmosphere of the stoi-y 
 itself. Note the tran.sition to immediate narration; so that the 
 prelude, though mainly discussion, yet gets over as consisting of 
 active incident (cf. Sl S. M., 140:7-8). 
 
 3. The characterizing detail, like the employment of narration, 
 is a means to procuring interested attention to the philosophical 
 
 160
 
 Nerve 161 
 
 Hesler, idly playing solitaire, threw down the deck with 
 a snort of disgust and spoke his mind. 
 
 4. " Him ? " he said. " I knew him ! Winterea in 
 Red Lodge, Mont., with him one year. See him die there, 
 and I never felt better over seein' a man go out in my life ! 
 Him? Bah! He had a yellow streak in him a yard 
 wide ! " 
 
 5. " Ye-e-e-s," said old Charley IsTelson, the spectacled, 
 grandfatherly, benevolent-looking old fellow with a repu- 
 tation as a gun fighter and all-round " bad man " that 
 kept him immune from annoyance in the toughest of 
 camps. " Ye-e-e-s, I've heard that ; an' f ar's that goes I 
 make him take water once myself in a little argument we 
 has over a card, nine turns in a stud game, that fills up a 
 flush for me an' lops a big pot. 
 
 6. " Him an' me disagree about the part o' the deck 
 this card comes from, but I bring him to see the light all 
 fine and proper, an' he's got a good shave on me at that, 
 'cause his hand's on his gun when the pow-wow starts, 
 whereas mine's on the table an' my gal's in the check 
 drawer, so if he's game to finish his play, it's a dirty, 
 mortal cinch he beats me to it. However 
 
 7. " An' then again I've seen him go all the way 
 thro' on a deal where he had the worst of it ! He seemed 
 to be kind o' flippety-flop somehow. Sometimes he shows 
 clean game, an' others he quits cold ! " 
 
 8. " An' nothin' to it ! " said Dick contemptuously. 
 " Ef a man's game he's game, an' that's all there is to it ! 
 
 prehide. Observe similar instances in the rest of the prekide, 
 inchiding the paragraphs of condensed episode with which the 
 old-timers illustrate their discussion.
 
 1G2 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Ef. he ain't game he's a dirty quitter, an' that's the answer 
 to that ! There ain't no halfway stuff about this nervy 
 thing. A man is or he ain't, an' he wasn't ! " 
 
 9. "• That's what they most all say," replied Charley, 
 " but I dunno ! It's an awful queer thing, this matter o' 
 nerve. Now, take you, for example. Anybody that 
 knows you at all knows that you'd go all the way thro' 
 any time it comes to a show-down." 
 
 10. " Why, most certainly, I would," said Dick. 
 " Why not ? That's all nonsense, this stuff about bein' 
 w^orried about goin' out! You got to go some time, ain't 
 you ? You know that much ! It makes a hell of a lot of 
 difference whether you go today or tomorrow or the day 
 after ; don't it ? Yes, it don't ! Why, a man that ain't 
 game to go when it's put up to him is a fool ! " 
 
 11. " Yes," said Charley, " same way with me. I'll 
 go with any man any time he says he's ready. But sup- 
 pose now that a feller gets tangled up with me, say, or 
 you an' this feller's got one o' them kind o' women that's 
 the real dope, an' he's thinkin' a heap o' her, an' maybe 
 got a kid or so that he's lookin' out for an' watchin' grow 
 up — has he got an even break with us when it comes to 
 the touch? Ain't he got the shoot end of it? Mos' cer- 
 tainly! He's got somethin' to stay for; we ain't. An' if 
 
 10. The most striking of several paragraphs in which the old- 
 timers discuss categories into which men can be separated accord- 
 ing to their character in the matter of nerve. Dick's exposition 
 is so impulsively sincere as to stand for the feeling of the type 
 of the frontiersman and mining pioneer. This emotional atti- 
 tude, be it observed, is altogether different from that of the hero 
 of the story proper; hence Dick's exposition is an effective 
 exposition, by contrast, of the character-quality of the hero, which, 
 in turn, is indispensable to the establishment of the theme.
 
 Nerve 163 
 
 he sticks for the big jump with a gee like me, say, he's 
 either a whole sight gamer than I am, or else he's a fool, 
 whichever way you look at it. 
 
 12. " Now, some men is game — that is, they'll stick 
 for the big show, 'cause they're proudlike an' they're a 
 damn sight scarder o' what folks'll say about 'em if they 
 don't toe the mark than they are o' crossin' over. 
 
 13. " Some men is game 'cause they ain't got no sense ! 
 They don't savvy nothin' ! They're just like a bull try in' 
 to butt an express train, an' once you can orate vivid 
 enough to make one o' them thick-headed wallopers under- 
 stand that, he's sure due to get his if he follows out his 
 play. He'll wilt quicker'n a tallow candle in hell ! 
 Others is game 'cause they're more or less hot-bloodedlike. 
 They go plumb crazy as soon's ever anythin' starts, an' 
 then they don't know nothin' more till it's all over ! An' 
 them kind can't help it, no more'n a keg o' powder 
 could help blowin' up if you was to drop a match 
 into it. 
 
 14. " Men is built different, an' what's dead easy for 
 one is awful hard for another. Take a reckless devil of 
 a cowpunch, that'll ride anythin' that wears hair, an' put 
 it up to him to go into a church and preach a sermon. 
 You couldn't see him for the dust he'd raise gettin' out o' 
 town! Same way, put one o' these preacher fellows up 
 against a bad bronc ; he puts his trust in the Lord, but this 
 
 14. The philosophical prelude ends. The theme is precisely 
 gathered into words in the last sentence of this paragraph. Note 
 how smoothly the transition is made into the story proper. The 
 story itself might begin with par. 15, and be complete so far as 
 plot and action are concerned ; but it would lose something in the 
 distinct emphasis of its theme and perhaps a little in atmosphere 
 effect.
 
 164 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 bronc don't look to him as if the Almighty had an awful 
 lot o' influence on his manner o' life, so Mr. Preacher he 
 prob'ly fans up a nice little breeze, same as the cowpunch ! 
 To my way o' thinkin', a man shows clean game when he 
 does the thing that's hardest for him, whereas the same 
 thing might be just like eatin' a meal to me. 
 
 15. " Summer o' 19 — I'm gamblin' on the boats on 
 the Yukon, an' I go outside an' make one trip to Seattle 
 an' back. On the run north they's the average crowd 
 aboard: old-timers that's got rid of their stake below 
 an was headin' back, quite a bunch o' husky young 
 ' chuckakos ' [Indian for " newcomer "] makin' for Daw- 
 son, an' a few tourists just takin' the round trip to Skag- 
 way an' back on the boat ; an' one young maverick that's 
 so dog-gone ordinary and common lookin' that I take par- 
 ticular notice o' him right from the start. 
 
 16. " He was a well-dressed sort of fellow, 'bout 
 medium height, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four years 
 
 15. On narration in the first person, see S. S. M., 138 : 3-4. In 
 this story, the first-person narration springs spontaneously out 
 of the philosophical prelude, the story itself being told (nom- 
 inally) as an illustration of the theme proposition. But it is 
 well adapted to this story for other reasons, chief of which is 
 that the interpretation of the hero's character and behavior is 
 more intimate and convincing, coming from one who knew him 
 and saw and reflected over the incidents detailed, than it could 
 possibly be from the impersonal third-person narrator. Note too 
 that the character of the narrator chosen materially increases the 
 value of his interpretation. How is it with " The Love of Men "? 
 
 16. We are now in the opening of the plot-portion of the narra- 
 tive (i.e., of the story proper, distinct from the narrative as it 
 includes the thematic prelude). The paragraph is one of direct 
 characterizing description (S. S. M., 222: 9). Here we might ex- 
 pect the name of the central person to be given — but is it given
 
 TTeeve 165 
 
 old, thin an' a mite stoop shouldered ; he had kind o' 
 scarce, light-colored hair that made me think of a wheat 
 field that'd been hard hit with the drought ; pale-blue eyes 
 that always looked sort o' strainedlike, as though he was 
 always tryin' to read somethin' that he couldn't quite 
 make out ; great big forehead ; a thin, high nose that was 
 always kind o' twitchin' at the end ; a smallish chin an' 
 jaw, an' a funny little mouth that was always open just 
 the least mite an' made him look all the time 's if he was 
 surprised about somethin'. He'd set around the smokin' 
 room listenin' like a good one to all the talk that's passed, 
 but never sayin' nothin' himself; an' once at the table, 
 when one of the tourist ladies that's sittin' across from 
 him asks him to pass her somethin' or 'nother, he makes 
 a mistake an' hands her the wrong thing. Well, sir, you 
 could toast your feet up back o' his ears, he gets that 
 red! 
 
 17. " He was so awful bashful an' timidlike that I 
 kind o' felt for him, an' one mornin' a couple o' days out 
 he's all alone when I comes into the smokin' room, so I 
 asks him for a match or somethin', and sets down along- 
 side o' him. 
 
 18. " ' Goin' far up ? ' I sez. 
 
 anywhere in the story? If not, why? Is the hero thoroughly 
 individualized'? Would giving him a name appreciably increase 
 the eoncreteness of his presentation? Notwithstanding the clear 
 individualization of him by the naiTator, is he anything but a 
 type, introduced for the purpose of illustrating the theme? Is 
 he personally of any importance, so that you are interested in 
 him at all except as he affords demonstration of the thematic 
 proposition? Is it skillful or unskillful treatment that thus 
 clearly individualizes a person who, in himself, is of no impor- 
 tance to us except as a type (S. S. M., 208: 2-3, with notes) ?
 
 IGG Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 19. "'Why, yes, sir; yes, sir/ he kind o' stammers. 
 ' I'm goin' away up to Juneau ! ' 
 
 20. " ' Yes ? ' sez I. ' Well, Juneau's a nice camp, all 
 right.' 
 
 21. " ' Yes, sir,' he sez, awful eagerlike. ' I heard you 
 speakin' about it last night, an' I was very anxious to ask 
 you about it. Do you know where the Sunburst Mine is up 
 there ? ' 
 
 22. " I told him I did, an' he says : ' Well, I'm goin' 
 up there to keep books for them. My uncle in Phila- 
 delphia — that's where my home is, in Philadelphia — owns 
 a lot of stock in the mine, an' he got me the position. 
 They're payin' me a splendid salary,' he says. ' I sup- 
 pose it's awfully difficult for them to get the kind o' men 
 who can do any sort o' office work to risk goin' up there.' 
 
 23. " I thought of all the doctors an' lawyers an' 
 preachers, too, that was handlin' nucksticks on the claims 
 
 19. Dialogue in keeping with the " part " ; ef . that of pars. 1-16. 
 On dialogue, see S. S. M., 229-249 ; on characterization and dia- 
 logue, 234:9-14; on dialect, 247 : 11-12.— Follow through the 
 speech of the " hero " in this stoi'y, noting how in each instance 
 it accords with and reveals his character. 
 
 21. "... awful eagerlike." In studying dialogue-charac- 
 terization as directed just above, note also the brevity and effec- 
 tiveness of the narrator in indicating for us the manner of the 
 speech and speaker. That dialogue gains much in effectiveness 
 when its manner is conveyed to us as well as its substance, is evi- 
 dent. This story affords several good illustrations. Observe how- 
 ever that such interpretations are used only where the dialogue 
 and situation are especially significant, and where the situation and 
 words together do not themselves fully disclose the speaker's man- 
 ner. The inexperienced writer likes to hitch a description of 
 manner to every speech, no matter how insignificant. 
 
 22. Purpose : to disclose the young fellow's ignorance of con- 
 ditions; gives us a more rounded out realization of the kind of 
 man he is.
 
 l^EEVE 167 
 
 around Dawson that would think they was back in civili- 
 zation sure 'nough when they got outside to Juneau, but 
 I kep' a straight face an' told him I reckoned it was. 
 
 24. " ' Yes, sir! ' he sez, shuttin' his jaws down tight. 
 ' I know I'm takin' a tremendous risk an' all that, but 
 I'm just determined to stick to it ! I'm gettin' all this 
 big salary, you see, an' then I'm liable to find a mine. 
 They tell me that an untried man who knows nothin' 
 whatever about the country is just as liable to stumble 
 onto a mine as anj^one else. 
 
 25. " ' I can hardly realize,' he goes on, ' that I'm 
 actually en route to the Far iSTorth ! I never dreamed that 
 I'd ever have the courage to undertake such a journey ! 
 I used to read of the hardships that the men in Alaska 
 underwent, an' wonder what motive could actuate any- 
 one to voluntarily place themselves in such peril. But I 
 understand now.' 
 
 26. "'Oh, you do, eh?' sez I. 'Have you got her 
 picture with you ? ' 
 
 27. " ' Yes, sir,' he sez, flushin' up. ' That's it ! But, 
 you see, I haven't very much money. I couldn't see how 
 we were goin' to be able to make a go of it for a fright- 
 
 24. Gives a forehint of the element of " nerve " in him — stick- 
 ing the thing through no matter how hard it is for him, once he 
 beHeves that he ought to. Unobtrusive character-touches and 
 hints (S. S. M., 257) like this aid greatly in giving verisimilitude 
 to the character portrayal by keeping suggestions of the char- 
 acter-conception before us and causing us unawaredly to realize 
 the nature of the person thi'ough his characteristic speech and 
 acts. Where such suggestive details abound and are well man- 
 aged, no outright interpretation or analysis of the character may 
 be needed at all ; consider Ring Lardner's baseball and detective 
 heroes and Harris Dickson's negroes as examples of work in 
 which the latter method prevails.
 
 IGS Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 fully long- tiiuc, au' when this offer came it just seemed 
 providential! 
 
 28. " ' She didn't want me to take it; she's very im- 
 selfish, you know, an' she said she didn't care about the 
 money part at all ; but then, of course, girls never can see 
 the practical side o' things ! 
 
 29. " ' I told her it wasn't right for a fellow to keep 
 a girl waiting for years an' years, as she'd be obliged to 
 wait if I worked up in the place I was employed then; 
 an' that by comin' up here I could save enough out of my 
 salary alone, even if I didn't discover a mine or anything 
 like that, to give us a start. 
 
 30. " An' sir, he went on an' on like that. Seemed 
 as though I'd pulled the cork out of a bottle of perpetual 
 conversation ! 
 
 31. " He showed me the girl's picture an' told me how 
 he happened to meet her, an' all about her family history 
 an' all of his. 
 
 32. " Then he began hammerin' again on what a risk 
 he was takin' in comin' that far north, an' all that. He 
 was scared of everything ! Scared the boat would go 
 down ! Scared he'd freeze to death somehow up in Juneau 
 that winter ! Scared he'd get snowed in an' starve to 
 death ! Seared he wouldn't get enough fresh vegetables 
 
 30. Supplementary character detail. 
 
 32-33. Intensifying (emphasizing) detail (S. S. M., 107: 30-35) ; 
 makes us appreciate how much moral nerve he showed in the 
 later incident, when he " called " the bad man. See also pars. 
 40-41. If one is thoughtfully minded, par. 33 provides material' 
 for reflection upon the effect that the imagination and an imagina- 
 tive tendency of mind can have upon one's affairs — another 
 illustration of the fact that fiction opens ways in all directions 
 into the philosophies of human life.
 
 Nerve 169 
 
 to eat an' he'd die o' the scurvy! Scared that he'd rim 
 into a crowd o' rough necks that'd murder him right out 
 o' hand! Scared o' every kind o' death he could think of! 
 An' he could think o' more kinds an' worse than a bunch 
 o' drunken 'Pache Injuns with a healthy white man for a 
 prisoner ! 
 
 33. " It wasn't only that he just thought of it casual- 
 like. No, he just naturally seen it all plain! He seen 
 himself lyin' out in the snow, froze to death ! He seen his 
 legs all eat off with the scurvy ! He fairly got thin from 
 seein' himself snowed in an' starvin' to death ! 
 
 34. " I eased his mind down as much as I could ; tried 
 to make him see that keepin' hoohs in Juneau or in any 
 o' the mines around there wasn't a heap different from 
 doin' the same thing in Philadelphia. But it wasn't no 
 use ! As fast as I'd rub out one picture o' ten-cent novel 
 death an' disaster with a little common sense, this here 
 imagination o' his would have another fine one painted, all 
 covered over with plenty o' gore an' pieces o' torn-up bone 
 an' flesh, an' he'd be dyin' all over again ! 
 
 35. " I wound up in Juneau that winter dealin' black- 
 jack in the dance hall there, an' one day, 'long in Janu- 
 ary, I'm takin' the wrinkles out o' my bread-basket over 
 in the northern restaurant when this young calamity 
 howler I'm speakin' of comes in. 
 
 35-41. The expositional stage of the story proper (pars. 14-41) 
 here merges off into a transitional division, in which we begin to 
 feel a more active mood and perceive narrative movement, espe- 
 cially in the indication of elapse of time. No other story in 
 this volume is so slow in taking up the action of the sustaining 
 plot. This however is not an adverse criticism; for no other 
 story has quite the same thematic conception as this. The stu-
 
 lYO Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 3G. " He's plumb tickled to meet up with me again, 
 an' squats 'longside to have a chow. 
 
 37. " ' Well,' sez I, ' you're one o' the most lifelike- 
 lookin' corpses I ever did see! Did you freeze to death 
 or die o' the scurvy? I been aimin' to send a wreath o' 
 evergreens or somethin' to put on your grave, but I 
 couldn't find out where you was buried! ' 
 
 38. " He kind o' colors up an' laughed a little embar- 
 rassedlike. 
 
 39. " ' I was frightfully green, wasn't I ? ' he sez. ' I 
 expected to find a horribly savage sort o' place when I got 
 here. Really, you know, it isn't half bad at all. 
 
 40. " ' There's one thing, though,' he goes on, pickin' 
 up his old dead an' forsaken tone o' voice. ' You know 
 the office out at the mine is situated only a short distance 
 from the mouth of the shaft, an' the men pass right by 
 the door every day carrying the dynamite from the 
 powder house. I tell you there's goin' to be a horrible 
 accident there some day I It's positively criminal the way 
 they handle those high explosives ! One would think they 
 were carrying so many sticks o' wood ! ' 
 
 41. " An' he's off again ! I see him after that off an' 
 on hustlin' round camp with that scared, peerin' way he 
 had, an' every time I met him he had some new brand o' 
 sure death doped out! He'd 'a' been worth wages to any 
 
 dent is advised to consider in this connection the entire discus- 
 sion of story openings in S. S. M., 122-151, noting that although 
 action whereby the caiTying plot (S. S. M., 107:30-31) is devel- 
 oped does not begin before par. 42, there is no lack of interest 
 (S. S. M., 126: 7 and 249) in what precedes, and that the element 
 of activity (not action; S. S. M., 37:4) is one reason for this. 
 On these matters, also of. especially S. S. M., 125 : 6 ; 130 : 14 ; 
 132:16; 135:21.
 
 Nerve lYl 
 
 undertaker just to stick around an' keep off the blues 
 when business was bad ! 
 
 42. " Same spring, an' the snows' gone out. The kid 
 goes agin the same old game that every man in a minin' 
 country that ain't prospector himself always does fall for, 
 an' grubstaked an' old walkin' whisky vat who'd 'a' been 
 shipped out o' camp long before only they was lookin' for 
 him to slough off every day, an' figured it'd be cheaper 
 to plant him than pay his fare below. 
 
 42. Plot action now begins to develop. The narrative may be 
 outlined thus: 
 
 Stage I, philosophical prelude — theme analyzed — pars. 1-14. 
 
 Stage II, expositional opening — pars. 15-41 — A, central per- 
 son characterized, pars. 16-34 — B, transition to stage 
 of plot development, pars. 35-41. 
 
 Stage III, first plot incident, pars. 42-69 — A, motivating facts, 
 pars. 42-59 — B, crisis of incident, pars. 60-69. 
 
 Stage IV, second plot incident, pars. 70-96 — A, expositional 
 facts motivating incident, pars. 70-78 — B, crisis of 
 incident, and climactic height of story, pars. 79-96. 
 
 Stage V, falling action and prompt close, pars. 97-101. 
 
 Observe how plausibility (S. S. M., 90:9-13; 241) is secured. 
 The belief of prospectors and miners in " fools' luck " is wide- 
 spread, whether sound or not; and the author introduces this 
 class-belief (which has extended itself to almost all classes), 
 knowing that its general acceptance will obscure or remove in 
 the reader's mind the reflection that a " strike " by the " kid " is 
 extremely improbable. — Examination will reveal that the entire 
 problem of so motivating the gambling incident as to give it 
 plausibility is ticklish. A timid, retiring fellow, whose mental 
 state is largely a succession of imaginative terrors and who 
 would think a game of " rummy " an adventurous dissipation, has 
 to be motivated into a situation utterly remote from his natural 
 instincts and from the ordinary probabilities of such a ease;
 
 172 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 43. " We might 'a' knowed it ! A pea-green sucker an' 
 an old lush that you wouldn't think had the legs to carry 
 him out o' sight o' camp, nor the sand left in him to let 
 his feet get that far from a bar rail! Luck couldn't never 
 pass up no such a pair as that! Especially when they 
 was good men combin' them hills that had put in their 
 whole life prospectin', an' the nearest thing to gold they 
 ever got was a Indian's complexion, an' the only silver 
 they could show was what hardship had washed their hair 
 with. 
 
 44. " Why, that combination o' ignorance an' booze 
 would 'a' struck pay dirt in a Kansas cornfield ! 
 
 45. " Sure they hit it ! Hit it rich ! Sold out the 
 mere prospect for $38,000 apiece, an' the old man he 
 melts out o' existence in one geelorious three-week bath, 
 an' leaves what's left o' his part o' the bank roll to the 
 kid. 
 
 otherwise no incident can be built up wherein he must clash 
 with the crude and uncombed violence of pioneer conditions and 
 with unrestrained human impulsiveness. In other words, he 
 must do something absolutely " out of character," and we must 
 be made to feel that his doing it is true to human experience 
 and natural in the particular circumstances. Now observe how 
 the author has motivated him into this situation and us into 
 acceptance of it. (1) The developing means decided on is a 
 gambling quarrel. (Reasons for the choice: Truth in local 
 coloring, adding to romantic element in setting and atmosphere; 
 and diametric unlikeness to " kid's " experience — he must face 
 the thing that is hardest for him.) (2) The " kid's " mental state 
 is prepared for his divagation into uncharacteristic adventure. 
 This is accomplished by means of his "strike"; he not only 
 has money, so that the investment of twenty dollars in gambling 
 no longer seems an impossible extravagance, but he is also in 
 that state of exultation which, following on notable success of 
 any kind, relaxes the inhibitions of habit, reflection and convie-
 
 Nerve 173 
 
 46. " One night about a week after the old man dies, 
 Dick Croton, who's runnin' the poker game in the joint 
 I'm workin' in, finds out that he's gettin' more'n his share 
 o' the loose change lyin' 'round camp, an' bein' fair- 
 minded, he starts out to distribute it. His neck gets stiff 
 from tiltin' it back; to be sure, there ain't none left in 
 the bottom o' the glass, an' his fingers git so dizzy un- 
 windin' his bank roll that he couldn't deal tiddledywinks 
 in a kindergarten for idiot children an' hold his own ! So, 
 the blackjack play bein' light that night, I close my game 
 an' go behind the dummy for him. 
 
 47. " 'Long about eight o'clock we're single footin' 
 along in a six-handed draw game when this young son o' 
 
 tion (truth to psychological experience) ; he is in a mood that 
 makes it easy to take a try at adventure. (Note the persistence 
 of his normal nature, however, in his suggestion that he can 
 afford that much in return for the old timer's friendship, and 
 in the guileless innocence with which he rakes in the winnings 
 without realizing that he is " riling " the seasoned and hardened 
 players). (3) His out-of-character appearance in the gambhng 
 place is arranged by his coming to say good-by before leaving for 
 the States. (4) There is a touch of natural human perversity 
 and irritation in the old man's suggestion ("generating circum- 
 stance") that the "kid" sit in, but the "kid" is too innocent 
 to see that, and his innocence, coupled with his confidence in 
 the old-timer, is the last deciding influence in bringing him into 
 the situation in which the author started out to place him. — 
 Once more we must reflect that the author quite probably did 
 not reason this all out in this detailed way; but he instinctively 
 felt these requirements and considerations, as is proved by our 
 analysis of his management of the motivation. We may append 
 a moral to these remarks : motivation of single incidents may be 
 as important and as difficult as motivation of the action as a 
 whole; and adequate motivation of the whole may easily be nulli- 
 fied by unconvincing motivation of some developing part. 
 
 42-59. Here occur some speeches that should be studied in con- 
 nection with the suggestion made in the note on par. 19.
 
 17-i Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 luck ambles into the dump lookin' for me. He come side 
 steppin' thro' the crowd in front o' the bar, excusin' him- 
 self every time anybody bumped into him, an' finally 
 fetches up by my layout. 
 
 48. " ' How do you do, Mr. Nelson ? ' he sez. ' I hope 
 I'm not intrudin'. I'm goin' to leave tonight on the 
 Cottage City, an' I just come in to say good-by. Perhaps 
 you may have heard someone speak of my good fortune ? ' 
 
 49. " ' Yes/ sez I. ' An' perJiaps I may have heard 
 someone in this camp speak o' somethin' else in the past 
 few weeks, but I don't remember it ! It's too bad, kid,' 
 I sez, ' with all that money thrown on your hands, the 
 way you're runniu' an awful risk o' livin' too high an' 
 dyin' o' liver trouble ! But,' sez I, ' we all got to take 
 chances ; don't we ? What time does your boat 
 leave ? ' 
 
 50. " ' Two o'clock in the mornin',' he sez. 
 
 51. " ' Two o'clock is a long ways off,' sez I, ' an' 
 there's room for a live one here. You ever dabbles in 
 this sweet sin at all ? ' 
 
 52. " ' Why, no, sir,' he sez. ' I never played any 
 myself, but I used to watch the fellows at prep school play 
 sometimes, so I understand the relative value of the dif- 
 ferent cards an' all that.' 
 
 53. " ' Well,' sez I, ' you'll never learn the curse o' 
 gamblin' any younger. Come on in an' get your feet wet.' 
 
 54. " ' Why, really, Mr. N'elson,' he sez, ' I'd like to 
 
 awfully well, but I don't know How much would it 
 
 cost me to play for a little while ? ' 
 
 55. " ' It'll cost you twenty dollars to sit in, an' when 
 that's gone you can blow out or buy more, accordin' to 
 how wise you are,' I sez.
 
 Nerve 175 
 
 56. " ' By Jove ! ' sez he, ' I'll do it ! It will be a novel 
 experience/ he sez, ' an' I can afford to spend twenty dol- 
 lars with you, Mr. Nelson, in part payment for the many 
 little kindnesses you showed me comin' up on the boat 
 last year. Where shall I sit ? ' 
 
 57. " Well, sir, he didn't know a thing about the game. 
 We had to explain this an' that to him every deal, but 
 luck! If I was to dream that I was havin' a streak 
 o' luck like that I'd shoot any man that woke 
 me up. 
 
 58. " First hand he played he hocked in on a short 
 pair against a pot flush, got three aces on the draw, showed 
 me his full house, an' asked me if I would advise him to 
 bet on it ! 
 
 59. " It was a joke to the rest o' the bunch at first, but 
 it kep' on so steady that he come near cornerin' the game, 
 an' pretty soon some of 'em began to get kind o' sore. 
 
 60. " Tex Morrissey was in the game that night, an' I 
 guess he'd had a few drinks. Anyhow, him an' the kid 
 gets tangled up in a lot o' big pots, an' the kid draws out 
 on him every hand. 
 
 61. " This Tex person was a pretty fairly haughty sort 
 of a party — one o' them workin' dogs that's right there 
 with the big bite, too ! He gets right sore at the way the 
 kid's cuttin' him out o' the grapes every time, an' starts 
 in makin' some pretty cuttin' talk. Finally the kid beats 
 a jack full for him with four eights, an' Tex throws down 
 his hand an' talks out in meetin'. 
 
 62. " ' Say ! Lookahere, you snivelin' little white-liv- 
 
 60-69. Climactic height of this (the first developing) incident.
 
 ITG Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 orcd rat,' lie sez; ' I'm no squealer an' I don't mind havin' 
 a full-growned man beat me ont o' my money, but I don't 
 like the color o' your eyebrows ! An' if you're man enough 
 to win my money, you're man enough to step outside an' 
 take a lickin' or give one ! ' 
 
 63. " ' Why ! ' sez the kid trcmblin' all anew. ' I— I 
 didn't mean to offend you, really I didn't ! I didn't mean 
 to beat you; it, it just happened that way! I couldn't 
 help it! I — I can't fight, sir; really I can't. And then 
 you're ever so much bigger than I am, you know ! Here ! ' 
 he sez, pushin' all his chips out on the center o' the table, 
 ' just take these and let me go ! That's as much as I won 
 from you. Please take it ! I don't care about the money ; 
 indeed, I don't. I had no idea of winnin' any way. I 
 was just playin' for pastime.' 
 
 G-i. " O' course him offering to give the money back 
 kind o' put the laugh over on Tex, an' that made him 
 madder'n ever. He jerks out a thirty-eight gun an' throws 
 it on the table. 
 
 65. " ' Pick that up an' hop to it, you dirty little 
 whelp ! ' he sez. ' God made some men big an' some little, 
 but guns evened 'em up ! I've got the mate to that on 
 me, so grab her up an' beat me to it if you can, an' if you 
 don't see this play thro' you're a ! " 
 
 66. *' The poor kid couldn't move ! he just sits there 
 slumped down in his chair, starin' at Tex with his mouth 
 hangin' open, waitin' for his finish! 
 
 67. " O' course I'm due about this time, an' when the 
 gun leaves the table I'm on the operatin' end of it an' Tex 
 is dustin' the ceilin' with his finger tips ! 
 
 68. " Soon's ever the kid see's I've got him covered, he 
 give a jump and lit runnin ' ! Never stopped to cash his
 
 Neeve 177 
 
 chips nor nothin' ! Just dodged for the door, an' he didn't 
 stop to beg nobody's pardon neither ! 
 
 69. " * Come on ! ' sez Tex when the kid's gone, ' put 
 that gun in storage, Charley! I wasn't aimin' to hurt 
 the kid ! I knowed he wouldn't have the nerve to pick up 
 my play! He was gettin' so cocky holdin' all them big 
 hands. I just wanted to show him where he got off in a 
 real game! ' 
 
 70. " O' course it really ain't none o' my row, so I gi\. 
 him his gun, an' we has a drink apiece on it an' the rue 
 tion's over. Come twelve o'clock, I'm off shift for an 
 hour to get my eats. I'm across in the restaurant havin' 
 chow when in comes the kid. He comes straight over to 
 my table an' sat down, an', sir, I never see a man so 
 awful white ! His jaw was clinched so hard you could 
 see the little ridges in his face where the cords stood out. 
 He set there with his elbows on the table, thrustin' an' 
 pullin' his fingers, lookin' straight at me, but never sayin' 
 a word ! Seemed's if his jaw was shut so awful tight he 
 couldn't git it open to speak ! All the scared, peerin' look 
 was gone out o' his eyes; they was dead hard an' stern, 
 but awful solemn an' sad like. 
 
 71. " ' Mr. ISTelson,' he sez finally, steady as a clock. 
 ' I've got to fight with that man ! ' 
 
 72. " ' You've got to what ? ' sez I. 
 
 70-96. Second developing incident of the story, including its 
 climactic height. — Observe the "hints" (especially mood hints) in 
 par. 70 (S. S. M., 257, bottom). Look for others in the story. 
 
 72. Illustrates how dialogue can have dramatic effect without 
 requiring any extraneous explanation. Visualize the .scene, and 
 imagine the explosive astonishment with which the old man utters 
 the exclamation. Moral : let act and speech interpret themselves 
 whenever they will; explanation detracts from dramatic value.
 
 178 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 73. " ' I've got to fight with tliat man that insulted 
 me this evenin',' he goes on. ' I've simply got to do it, 
 sir ! When I left the dance hall I ran right down to the 
 boat and locked myself in my stateroom and I've been 
 lyin' there ever since thinkin' it all over! I've got to 
 do it ! ' 
 
 74. " ' Why, boy ! ' I sez, ' what's the matter with you? 
 You're crazy. You can't fight him, you haven't got the 
 ghost of a show ! an' once you get him sure 'nough riled up 
 he'll finish you ! ' 
 
 75. " ' Yes, sir,' he sez, monotonous an' steady as an 
 old clock a-tickin'. ' 1 know he wall, but there isn't any 
 other way ! If I w^ere to leave town without fightin' him, 
 after the names he called me, I'd be a coward, and she 
 doesn't like cowards. You see, sir, I don't want to fight, 
 but it's my duty, so there isn't anythin' else for me to do. 
 
 75. Beneath the " kid's " explanation of his determination may 
 be found the basic fact of human nature on which the theme itself 
 is motivated : the inner impulse to do what seems prescribed by 
 the standards of self-respect, regardless of consequences. The 
 story as a whole enlarges our understanding of man (S. S. M., 
 1: 14; 5: 11; 43: 1), as good fiction should do; accomplishing its 
 purpose by integrating (S. S. M., 166: 23) a thematic proposition 
 with incidents concretely embodying and exemplifying the 
 thought (S. S. M., 2:5-11). Its method in this is that of pro- 
 viding a direct definition of courage ("nerve") combined with 
 an artistic presentation of courage manifested in a concrete in- 
 stance — the impression of the whole being increased by the tacit 
 suggestion, which experience teaches us is true, that courage may 
 manifest itself unexpectedly in persons who seem almost com- 
 pletely to want it. We find therefore that ultimately our story 
 owes its convincingness to the fact that it is founded on human 
 nature, i.e., motivated in the nature of man, the only satisfying 
 basis. See (in addition to references above) S. S. M., 15:6; 
 34: 19-22; 43 : 1-4; 46 : 8-17; 191 : 5-6; 209: 3-5; (213 : 7) ; 217: 4; 
 256 : bottom.
 
 Nekve 179 
 
 76. " ' O' course/ he sez, ' it's useless for me to attempt 
 to fight him with my fists, so I want you to loan me your 
 revolver.' 
 
 77. " C course, first off, I wasn't goin' to let him have 
 it, but as I sit there tryin' to figure out what to say to get 
 this nutty idea out o' his head, it come over me strong 
 that hid away somewhere's in that little carcass o' his was 
 a chunk o' real man that's got to be treated as such. O' 
 course a mans got to play his own game, an' I chucked 
 him my gun. 
 
 78. " ' Kid,' sez I, ' go your way ! ITow listen ! This 
 Tex's quicker'n chain lightin' on the draw. Keep out o' 
 sight, get up to him from behind an' git close so's you 
 can't miss ! Cover him an' tell him " ban's up," watch 
 them ban's ! an' if one of 'em makes a wiggle anyways 
 'ceptin' straight up, don't wait fer nothin' else, but shoot ! 
 an' keep on shootin' ! 'cause he'll draw an' drop ye 'fore 
 ever you can pull a trigger! ' An' just then the door 
 opens an' in comes Tex ! 
 
 79. " We're sittin' at a table on the lefthand side as 
 you come in, about halfway back, an' as luck'd have it, 
 Tex is just in to buy a smoke, an turns to the cigar case 
 at the end o' the counter, an' on the right-hand side, an' 
 stands there with his back turned our way 'thout ever 
 seein' us. 
 
 80. " I'm sittin' facin' the door so the kid don't see him 
 come in. I leans over the table and whispers to him: 
 
 81. " ' Keep cool ! ' I sez, ' here he is ! ' 
 
 82. " The kid turns around quick, see's him standin' 
 there, an', sir, he never hesitated nor nothin'. He got 
 right up an' walked toward the door, like's if he was goin'
 
 180 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 on out, holdin' the gun down 'longside his leg, an' when 
 he's most at the door an' right behind Tex, he stops, points 
 the gun at him, an' sez, just as natural an' easy as a 
 man'd ask for a match: 
 
 83. " ' Oh, Mr. Morrissey.' 
 
 84. " Tex he turns to see who's callin' him, see's the 
 kid holdin' the gun right down on him an' starts back 
 agin the counter with his eyes fair poppin' out o' his head ! 
 
 85. " ' Put your hands up over your head just a minute 
 until I get thro' talkin',' sez the kid. An' when they're 
 elevated proper, he goes on : ' You insulted me this evenin', 
 Mr. Morrissey, an' dared me to fight you. I was scared 
 and ran away. I didn't want to fight you, but I find I 
 have to.' 
 
 86. " I have heard that you are accustomed to handlin' 
 a gun and have the knack of gettin' it out of your pocket 
 very quickly, so of course I'd have no chance at all unless 
 I had mine out first. I'll hold my gun down at my side, 
 and I give you my word that I won't raise it to fire until 
 I see that your hand is at your pocket. I'm very sure that 
 that will be fair to you. That's all, sir ! you can take your 
 hands down now and take out your revolver whenever you 
 are ready.' 
 
 87. " An' the kid drops his gun at his side ! 
 
 88. " Tex stood there kind o' crouched a little, scrooged 
 back agin the case, starin' at the kid, an' the kid he's just 
 watchin' them hands same as I told him to. 
 
 89. " They stood that way, neither one of 'em movin' 
 a muscle for maybe half a minute ! It seemed to me like 
 an hour! An' then Tex began to lower his right hand 
 awful slow! He'd move it down maybe an inch at a time 
 an' then stop !
 
 ISTekve 181 
 
 90. " It come down inch by inch till it was even with 
 his neck ! Then down on his chest, an' there she stops, an' 
 they stood there starin' at each other, neither one of 'em 
 battin' an eye, an' then the sweat begin to come out on 
 Tex, an' I knowed he was all thro' ! 
 
 91. " Then his chest started heavin' like he'd been run- 
 nin' hard, an' his hand starts movin' up again, slow, inch 
 by inch just like he'd brought it down, till it's up over his 
 head agin! 
 
 92. " All this time you could see his face sort o' goin' 
 to pieces just like rotten ice, it look's if you could poke it 
 with your finger an' leave a dent in it ! 
 
 93. " He licks his lips a couple o' times an' sez in a 
 sort o' whisper, ' Don't shoot ! don't shoot ! Let me go, 
 will you ? ' 
 
 94. " ' Yes, sir,' sez the kid, steady and clear, by 
 Hokey ! as a man could speak. ' I'll be glad to if you'll 
 apologize for what you said to me tonight.' 
 
 95. " ' 1 take it back,' sez Tex. ' Can I go now ? ' 
 
 96. " ' Certainly,' sez the kid, an' Tex turns 'round an' 
 walks out still holdin' his hands in the air, like's if he'd 
 forgot they was up there! 
 
 97. " After he's gone the kid looks do^vn at the gun in 
 his hand an' studies it for a minute curious like, winks 
 his eyes fast like a sleep-walker comin' to, turns the gun 
 
 97-101. Note the rapid falling action and quick close. Espe- 
 cially note the wisdom of omitting a philosophical eiDilogue; the 
 prologue-argument and the concrete exemplification presented 
 through the action have fully established the theme. If one 
 wishes, however, he can regard the closing sentence as an enforc- 
 ing comment.
 
 182 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 over in bis hand an' studies it in a puzzled kind o' way, 
 an' then the scared look began to come back on him, an' all 
 of a sudden he gives a yell an' throws that gun away from 
 him like's if he'd been holdin' a rattlesnake an' just found 
 it out, an' then down he goes in a fit, laughin' an cryin' 
 at the same time ! 
 
 98. " I took him down to the boat an' stayed with him 
 till she sailed ! Sat in his stateroom an' tried to figure 
 out how that shakin' bundle o' misery layin' in the bunk 
 had ever stood on his two feet an' outgamed a tough old 
 gunman like Tex ! 
 
 99. " When they called ' All ashore' an I got up to go 
 he grabbed hold o' my hand with both o' his an' looks up 
 at me pleadin' like. His face was all streaked over with 
 tears, an' his eyes was red an' swollen from cryin'. He 
 looked like a ten-year-old kid that'd been spanked an' put 
 to bed without his supper ! 
 
 100. " ' Mr. Nelson,' he sez. ' Tell me the truth. Am 
 I a coward ? ' 
 
 101. " ' Kid,' sez I, ' You're the gamest dog-gone man 
 that ever stood in shoe leather ! ' An' in spite o' the fact 
 that he's prob'ly worrin' himself gray headed right now 
 for fear somebody'll drop somethin' overboard from one 
 o' these here flyin' machines some dark night an' kill him. 
 I'm thinkin' I told him the gospel truth ! "
 
 A QUIET LIFE OR LIFE ON THE QUIET 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. A story notable for having an event-group of ro- 
 mantic or melodramatic nature, with adventure intensi- 
 fying accompaniment, subordinated to a situation of com- 
 monplace, with everyday environment and atmosphere to 
 match. The action that carries the story to the outcome 
 required by the motif and theme, is merely the conver- 
 sational incident at the supper table, and the ensuing inci- 
 dents, nearly all occurring in the same pathetic environ- 
 ment, — affording an opportunity for the conversations of 
 Mr. Opt. The framework is the commonplace action nec- 
 essary to give Mr. Opt's dialogue a chance to trickle forth 
 until at last enough of it collects to reveal his romantic 
 or exciting past. This is a form of indirect narration. 
 Here it serves to emphasize the contrast (first pointed out 
 by the title) between the lives of Opt the man and Opt the 
 burglar. For the sake of comparison, it might be worth 
 the trouble to write out the story of Opt's past in direct 
 form — that is, as two crook-adventure-sentiment stories, 
 recounting merely the adventures of Opt, and merely for 
 their own interest. See next note. 
 
 2. See S. S. M., 104: 24-25. It is possible to call this 
 a story within a sketch — the story of Opt's past hung on 
 the sketch of Mrs. Roddy's boarding-house and boarders. 
 Aside from the contrast between Opt, the man who knows 
 what real excitement is, and his life, and Doc Spears, who 
 only thinks he knows — the most notable fiction element is 
 
 183
 
 184 Today's Siioet Stoeies Analyzed 
 
 characterization and social atmosphere. In fact, the story 
 of Opt's past includes two complete dramatic movements, 
 and some supplementary facts. The two movements, 
 though sketch] ly outlined in the dialogue, can be devel- 
 oped into two complete dramatic stories, with climax, out- 
 come, and the other essentials of a short-story plot. The 
 first is the episode in which Opt takes the blame for the 
 second maid's theft (their subsequent marriage, as pre- 
 sented here, is in the nature of a separate distinct ending, 
 but might appear otherwise in the movement if re- 
 written). The other is the somewhat more melodramatic 
 and less plausible, though equally " human," episode of 
 the burglar-and-sick-child (both incidents turn upon situa- 
 tions that are old in burglar fiction). The main supple- 
 mentary matter is the family history of the Opts, the edu- 
 cation of their son, the marriage of their daughter, and 
 characterizing facts such as their habit of helping young 
 folks. But as explained in note 1, the incident through 
 which these two plot-schemes or situations are sketched is 
 carried by the boarding-house action and dialogue. 
 
 3. The entire management, by which so much plot and 
 action are successfully got before the reader without inter- 
 fering with his sense of and interest in the boarding-house 
 action, is highly skillful. Part of the author's success in 
 handling it is owed to the naturalness with which the 
 boarding-house situation is gradually developed. Observe 
 how gradually we are led, by means of much-retarded nar- 
 ration dealing largely with commonplaces of setting, con- 
 versation, and personal characteristic, to the disclosure 
 that Opt is a burglar ; and then with more rapid movement, 
 through the episodes of his past. 
 
 4. The establishment of the theme comes through an
 
 A- Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 185 
 
 unusual mothod — by a form of contrast wherein the anti- 
 theme (the contrary of the real thought) is repeatedly as- 
 serted, and the true theme not positively asserted at all. 
 The anti-theme is disproved and the theme established 
 solely by the incidents of Opt's experience, emphasized 
 obviously only by the comment of the auditor thereon in 
 par. 179. This puts into words for us the realization of 
 Opt's guileless and generously human criminality and his 
 complete unawaredness of anything either romantic or ad- 
 venturous in his life. Well-managed contrast is common, 
 but such thoroughgoing emphasis of the anti-theme is not. 
 As here used, the method is manifestly successful. 
 
 5. Like " The Defective," this story, though setting 
 itself a theme, employs much ancillary and illustrative 
 matter that supplements (rather than establishes the 
 theme). As a consequence, like " The Defective," it may 
 be regarded as developing a motif (S. S. M., 96: 10), not 
 merely establishing a theme. 
 
 6. This story offers numerous instances of skillful 
 technique in making details contribute to immediate or 
 ultimate motivation, characterization, emphasis, perspec- 
 tive, proportion, atmosphere creation, and the like. Often 
 these skillful turns are so subtle or inobvious that they re- 
 veal themselves as employments of technique only on close 
 analysis. Examples are noted in several places in the 
 running comment. 
 
 7. The fact that this story is managed with much mas- 
 tership in technique, especially in the handling of details 
 to definite purposes, does not make it a " story with a big 
 punch." It " gets across," it provokes curiosity, it con- 
 tains two passages with a thrill of suspense, it character- 
 izes, and it presents a theme. But it does not produce a
 
 186 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 strong, centered dramatic effect. Because of its unusual 
 angle of narration it must outline rather than amplify, 
 and sketch rather than intensify. It develops its motif 
 and establishes its theme, but the theme does not come to 
 us with stirring emotional appeal. The narrative has no 
 intense central or climactic situation, for the simple rea- 
 son that its structural plot (introd. note 1) does not 
 permit one. Its impression-elements have to be dissipated 
 rather than condensed and cumulated. Measured for the 
 moment, therefore, by this standard only, it ranks below 
 " The Cat and the Fiddle," " The Love of Men," " A Eag- 
 Time Lady," " The Great God," " In the Matter of Dis- 
 tance," " The Last Rose," " Tropics," and others in our 
 collection. This is not a reflection on it, however, for the 
 story accomplishes what it was planned to accomplish, 
 which in this case requires greater skill than the usual 
 form of organization might demand. To attain the pur- 
 pose of strong emotional effect, a different conception and 
 therefore a different method of approach and presentation 
 would have been necessary ; but this is not what the author 
 aimed at.
 
 A QUIET LIFE, OR LIFE ON THE QUIET 
 By Herbert C. Test 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author, from 
 
 "Collier's Weekly" for July 19, 1913. 
 
 (Copyrighted 1913) 
 
 1. " Good evening, Mr. Opt." 
 
 2. Mrs. Eoddy extended greeting to the boarder whose 
 delayed arrival completed our roster of regular diners. 
 She nodded toward the one empty chair. 
 
 3. " We were just talking about burglars," she stated. 
 
 4. Mr. Opt glanced at her with scrutinizing interest. 
 
 1. Attention is immediately directed to the main person. The 
 next three paragraphs confirm our interest in Opt as created by 
 par. 1. Pars. 3-4 put the subject of the theme and nairative 
 before us, and connect Mr. Opt with it at once. 
 
 1-20. This section accomplishes the motivation desired for 
 Opt's seeking out the narrator and — presently — making a confidant 
 of him. The motivation is this : Miss Truax' defense of burglars 
 arouses Mr. Opt's kindness, and the discussion as a whole stirs 
 his personal-professional feeling on the subject. He goes to the 
 narrator to make him agent in the gift of the ring, and so yields 
 to his desire to explain his philosophy of burgling and burglars. 
 It is all most natural (cf. introductory note 3). The excellence 
 of this motivating is mainly responsible for the plausibility of 
 the situation that is developed out of it. S. S. M,, 90-92; on 
 motivation, S. S. M., 15, 96 : 11. Refer, however, to note below 
 (5-20) and observe how much more than a mere framework of 
 motivating action the movement is made by the employment of 
 vivifying material and contributory narrational processes, such 
 as characterization and presentation of environment. This power 
 to realize persons and actions in a complete set of manifestations 
 
 187
 
 18S Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 5. '^ I was just saying," she continued, " that I never 
 felt the least bit afraid of 'em when my husband was alive. 
 I think every one of 'em ought to go to the chair," she con- 
 tinued with conviction. " Every one ! There is too much 
 stealing entirely ! " 
 
 6. Mrs. Roddy appeared to be working herself up to a 
 proper condemnatory attitude to do the subject justice. 
 She glared at " Doc " Spears and another boarder, who 
 were indulging in a low-toned discussion of coming base- 
 ball prospects. Doc Spears halted with a word half fin- 
 ished. 
 
 7. " Once a thief, always a thief," she quoted. " A 
 young man who doesn't pay his honest debts when they are 
 due is no better." 
 
 8. Doc Spears, who had been publicly dunned in the 
 
 and relationships produces a fnlhiess of conception and presen- 
 tation that constitutes the difference between stories that are 
 merely crudely detailed plot-abstracts or scenarios and stories 
 that are masterly made. 
 
 5-20. These paragraphs present piecemeal the two common 
 views the unthinking are likely to express about thieves and their 
 like. Opt's is a third view — that burglary is an unromantic, re- 
 quiring, sort of business pursuit. Very skillfully the story weaves 
 different possible views of the " profession " into a presentation 
 that distinctly unifies if it does not deepen them. This is one way 
 in which basic facts of life can be presented and life itself 
 interpreted. Read S. S. M., 1 : 1-11. Also see S. S. M., 64 : 15-16 ; 
 194 : 10-12 ; 256, last par. ; 257, pars. 1 and 3 ; 46 : 8-13 ; 214 : 1-2. 
 — Mingled with this are excellent character and setting hints. 
 Several boarding-house types are briefly, but sufficiently, indi- 
 cated. Make a list of these, and catalogue the type-characteristics 
 of each. Then opposite each characteristic, set down the speeches 
 and acts that indicate it. — Pars. 13-16 represent two general traits 
 frequently met with in women, the one in women of middle age 
 or beyond, the other in younger women engaged to be married. 
 What traits are they?
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 189 
 
 front hall for overdue board, appeared to grasp an inner 
 meaning in the rather enigmatic conclusion. 
 
 9. " I guess they'd have to work the electrocuters on 
 shifts if they did," he replied, equally cryptic. 
 
 10. Mrs. Roddy shifted her gaze back to Mr. Opt. 
 
 11. " I'm not speaking for myself — that is, not about 
 the burglars," she declared. " Goodness knows, I've noth- 
 ing to steal now. It's mighty different from when Mr. 
 Roddy was alive," she finished plaintively. 
 
 12. Miss Bessie Truax, who had finished her dinner, 
 sat back and played with a cluster ring on the third 
 finger of her left hand. " Don't you think, Mrs. Roddy, 
 that some poor persons are driven to steal by misfor- 
 tune ? " she queried with deep concern. 
 
 13. " That is no excuse — to my mind," Mrs. Roddy re- 
 turned acidly. " 'No excuse whatever ! You're soon going 
 to have a house of your own " — Miss Truax blushed — 
 " or a flat," she added pointedly. " You wait until you 
 get away from a homelike place, where you're taken care 
 of like a mother would ; and wait until you have to tend 
 to locking up and hear noises when your husband is out 
 at some beer saloon with you alone at home. You just 
 wait ! " 
 
 14. Miss Bessie Truax seemed crushed for a moment 
 over this picture of domestic woe ; then she rallied. 
 
 15. " My husband " — she faltered and blushed more 
 deeply — " or, at least, my intended husband, doesn't 
 drink," she stated positively. " And, anyhow, I know he 
 wouldn't leave me alone " 
 
 16. "Oho!" Mrs. Roddy interrupted. "You'll find 
 out! " She appealed to her entire boarding clientele. 
 " She'll find out, won't she ? " she demanded.
 
 190 Today's Shokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 17. Miss Bessie Truax refused to retreat. 
 
 18. " Well, anyhow, I believe there is some good even 
 in burglars," she insisted. 
 
 19. Mrs. Roddy appeared about to explode as the result 
 of the defiant stand taken by Miss Truax, who had already 
 placed herself outside the pale of consideration by serving 
 notice of intention to vacate her room to enter matrimony. 
 She appealed directly to Mr. Opt. 
 
 20. " Some good in burglars ? " she demanded of him. 
 " Mr. Opt, do you believe that there can be any good in 
 burglars ? " 
 
 21. Mr. Opt rose, and his motions, although defer- 
 ential, were quick. He bobbed a timid bow and started 
 for the door. 
 
 22. " Yes, ma'am," he murmured. 
 
 23. Mrs. Roddy glowered down an incipient titter 
 started among her charges. She ignored the complete 
 failure of Mr. Opt to rally to her support. 
 
 24. " There's what I call a little gentleman," she told 
 us. '^ Comes and goes as quiet as a mouse ; always speaks 
 most respectful, and never complains about his meals." 
 She paused to gather together more virtues of Mr. Opt 
 to be vocally catalogued. 
 
 21. Opt's outward timidity is repeatedly brought before us. On 
 incongruity (i.e., contrast) as a means of producing effect, see 
 S. S. M., 223 : 10, 11. On the principal means of character indi- 
 cation employed in this story, see S. S. M., 227 : 14. 
 
 24. Attention is again more singly centered on the main person 
 by this speech. It also serves as a device for emphasizing further 
 the contrast between Opt as he appears and Opt in his profes- 
 sional character. S. S. M., 232:6; 214, lines 10-12.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 191 
 
 25. " What does old Pussyfoot do for a living? '' Doc 
 Spears inquired. 
 
 26. " That is a matter that is less the business of any 
 boarder in my house than it is mine," Mrs. Roddy re- 
 turned. " And / never inquire into anybody's affairs — 
 especially when they pay two dollars extra a week for a 
 third-floor back — and pay it," she finished pointedly. 
 
 27. Doc Spears was unabashed. '' Maybe he's superin- 
 tendent of an all-night Sunday school," he suggested im- 
 pudently. " I usually meet him going out at night when 
 I come in — and I don't often blow off the avenue until 
 the bartenders start for the hay." The final statement was 
 made boastfully. 
 
 28. Mrs. Roddy rose to assist in serving dessert. 
 
 29. " Whatever he does, lie don't spend his board 
 money for booze," she retorted. 
 
 30. Doc Spears gulped his pudding and started toward 
 the hall before he replied. 
 
 31. " Booze ! " he jeered. " I'd like to see Opt with 
 a little jag. I can't see how such rabbits as him get along 
 without some excitement in life. Me for a little adven- 
 ture once in a while," he declared as he departed. 
 
 32. Mr. Opt's light, double tap at my door barely drew 
 my attention from my evening studies. He opened the 
 
 25-31. Doc Spears is the principal foil to Opt in this story; 
 hence the bringing of him forward from time to time. See 
 S. S. M., 69. In one sense, all the boarding-house group are a 
 foil to Opt. These paragraphs are coneentrative in function (S. 
 S. M., 107-109). Par. 27, hinting at something doubtful in Opt's 
 behavior, is an interest-tickler — one of the devices for stimulating 
 suspense. 
 
 32. • Second movement begins. (Note that the first movement 
 consists of two episodes. How is it with the other movements?) —
 
 192 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 door less than a third of its swing and sidled into the 
 room. I noticed that he closed the door without causing 
 the usual click of the latch. His progress across the floor 
 to the chair to which I invited him with a nod was abso- 
 lutely noiseless. He avoided, as though by instinct, a loose 
 floor board which usually squeaked loudly when stepped 
 on. He flashed a comprehensive glance around the room ^ 
 as he seated himself on the extreme edge of the chair. " I 
 hope, sir, that I am not intruding, sir ? " he questioned. 
 
 33. I informed him that I was glad to welcome him to 
 my humble quarters. He refused my tender of my own 
 comfortable rocker and waited patiently until I had com- 
 pleted the usual inane sarcasms concerning boarding-house 
 comforts. " Many a young gentleman has been forced by 
 circumstances to accept worse, sir," he said respectfully. 
 He passed a tiny leather box from one hand to the other.^ 
 
 34. " I hope, sir, that I am not presuming in coming 
 to you for a favor, sir," he continued without waiting for 
 a reply. He seemed pleased at my nod of encouragement. 
 " You see, sir, it is a rather delicate matter, sir ; one that 
 
 ^ From sentence 2 to this point, the details are selected to em- 
 phasize Opt's burglarious character, and to make us visualize 
 him in it. 
 
 33. ' Observe the naturalness with which a characteristic move- 
 ment of nervousness is made to bring forward the next phase of 
 the action. 
 
 34. Beginning here, study Opt's conversation, and the mental 
 traits that it represents. Make a list of his mannerisms of 
 (1) speech and (2) thinking. — Does he talk like a person unused 
 to much converse? Is this a personal or a class trait? (S. S. M., 
 48-51, 20S-212). If a class trait, is it consistent and well-chosen 
 by the author? How are his defei'ential manner, his frequent 
 introduction of " sir," and his mention of " a gentleman " (par. 
 34) to be accounted for? Cf. par. 119.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 193 
 
 I could hardly ask anyone but a gentleman to undertake, 
 sir " 
 
 35. He stopped and held out the little box. As he ex- 
 tended it toward me he snapped the lid open. Inside lay 
 a ring set with a small but perfect diamond. He laid the 
 box and the trinket it held on my trunk, which was doing 
 duty as an improvised desk. 
 
 36. " You see, sir, she's a very nice young lady, sir — 
 very kindly; aiid very sympathetic, I imagine, sir. I 
 thought I might be permitted, sir " 
 
 37. He paused again. I am sure that my face revealed 
 my mental perplexity. The faint shadow of a smile flick- 
 ered across his face. 
 
 38. " I beg pardon, sir," he apologized. " You could 
 hardly know, sir, just what I am asking, sir." The faint 
 smile appeared again. 
 
 39. " You see, sir," he continued rapidly, " I wish 
 to leave this little remembrance to Miss Truax — Miss 
 Bessie Truax, you know, sir; the young lady who is 
 about to be married, sir; and I thought maybe, sir, that 
 you " 
 
 40. " Why don't you give it to her, then ? " I was get- 
 ting impatient. 
 
 41. " Oh, I couldn't, sir ! " His tone expressed a mild 
 horror. " I couldn't do it at all, sir." He became pro- 
 pitiatory. " You see, sir, I — I — " He seemed to have 
 
 37-38. Is Opt's wit as erratic as his speech? Is quick, keen 
 observation one of his attributes, and if so, what other passages 
 indicate it? Is it a personal trait? Cf. par. 126. 
 
 40. Is the intrusion of the narrator's mood disturbing? Do we 
 get too much of it? Is this sentence necessary?
 
 194 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 evolved au idea and appeared pleased. " You see, sir, I 
 am going away, sir, and " 
 
 42. This time I did not have to express my thought. 
 " I'll explain, sir," he said hurriedly, as though in answer 
 to my unspoken query. " I'll explain, sir, why I can't 
 give it to her before I go away, sir. You see, sir, that the 
 young lady has been very, very good to me, sir, and I wish 
 to show my appreciation of her kindness." 
 
 43. He paused as though to correlate his ideas. Again 
 he show^ed uncanny grasp of my mental processes. I had 
 no recollection of Miss Truax even noticing the retiring 
 Mr. Opt during the two months since his arrival at Mrs. 
 Roddy's and had intended to satisfy my curiosity by ask- 
 ing for information regarding the form of kindness dis- 
 played by the young lady. 
 
 44. " Oh, no, sir ; not the ordinary sort of kindness at 
 all, sir," he interjected hastily. " Not at all, sir ! You 
 see, sir, that Miss Truax has only been kindly and con- 
 siderate of everybody in the house, sir; not at all of me, 
 alone, sir. ]^ot at all, sir." 
 
 45. My impression of Miss Truax during our acquaint- 
 ance at Mrs. Roddy's had hardly led me to believe in any 
 transcendent goodness or kindliness in that young lady. 
 At times I had thought her a bit snippy. I said so. Mr. 
 Opt appeared pained. 
 
 43. Cf. note on 34. Also on 37-38. 
 
 44 ff. Opt's overestimate (cf. par. 206) of Miss T's kindliness 
 includes both a human and an individual suggestion of character. 
 He is naturally a kindly man ; but also it is human nature to 
 entertain an excessive gratitude toward those who have seemed 
 considerate when everyone else is hostile.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 195 
 
 46. " Oh, sir ; I'm so sorry, sir," be complained. " I 
 hoped that everyone admired her as I do. She always 
 seemed to me to be so ready to take up for the poor and 
 lowly, sir. Now at dinner tonight, sir. When she took 
 up for the bur " 
 
 47. His sudden silence made me glance at him quickly. 
 He had covered his lips with a half-closed hand and ap- 
 peared frightened. 
 
 48. " Are you interested in the welfare of burglars ? " 
 I asked sharply. 
 
 49. " Well, in a way, sir," he answered quickly. He 
 seemed distressed. " Just in a way sir. You see, sir," 
 he hurried on as though to cover a conversational slip, 
 " I just used that as an illustration of her desire to shield 
 the weak and erring. You see, sir, it made me think of 
 my wife " 
 
 50. " Your wife ? " I broke in. " Are you * married ? " 
 I'm afraid my smile was sardonic. Mr. Opt's quick gray 
 eyes took flashing notice.^ 
 
 47. The act is thoroughly consistent with the person and situa- 
 tion. See S. S. M., 208 G. Pars. 46 and 47 are interest-ticklers. 
 With 48-49, they are preparing the way for the full disclosure 
 of the fact that Opt is a burglar. It is time for some hint that 
 we are getting ahead, for the conversation is almost ready to 
 drag. On the naturalness ultimately resulting from this slow 
 approach to the revelation of Opt's career, see introd. note 3. 
 See also S. S. M., 229: 2, 230; 4, 232: 6, 7, 8 (first two sentences). 
 
 50. Introduction of the main person (next to Opt) in the ancil- 
 lary, or story-within-story, plot. — Observe how new impulse is 
 given to the narrative, just when it threatened to lag, by mention 
 of the wife. — The device occurs elsewhere. — ' Cf. par. 24 and 
 S. S. M., 223:10-224:12. Opt's physique is as incongruous (su- 
 perficially) with his profession and career, as are his boarding- 
 house existence and his timidity. The story draws much of its 
 thematic effectiveness from contrast. — " Cf. 37-38, note.
 
 1!>() Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 51. " Oh, yes, sir," he answered. " Yes, sir. Didn't 
 I mention her before ? In Chicago, sir. The dearest and 
 sweetest woman in the world, sir. I have her picture here, 
 sir." 
 
 52. He fumbled in his pocket, but I waved aside his 
 proffer of the picture. I was becoming puzzled. " Go on, 
 please," I requested. " Tell me what you wish." He 
 seemed relieved. 
 
 53. " You see, it's like this, sir," he said. " Miss 
 Truax is about to be married, sir. The young man, I take 
 it, sir, is worthy but poor, sir. Wait just a moment, 
 please," he pleaded to halt my intended comment. " You 
 see, sir, that the ring — that is, her engagement ring — is 
 plated, sir " — he seemed horrified — :" merely plated, sir. 
 I've seen it often. And the stones, sir " — he twitched his 
 hands as though in pain — " the stones, sir, are merest 
 imitation, sir. I thought, sir," he went on, " that perhaps 
 you might — oh, dear sir ! I'm so sorry that you don't like 
 her, sir — that you might give her this little ring in 
 place " 
 
 54. " Are you sure your wife " I started the wit- 
 less prod and stopped — ashamed. 
 
 55. " Oh, my wife would approve — entirely, sir. I 
 have written to her, sir. She is greatly pleased. I thought 
 
 51. A characterizing speech. Observe here as elsewhere the con- 
 trast element. If Opt were the conventional burglar of fiction, 
 such a speech would be out of keeping; but he is neither a Bill 
 Sykes nor a Raffles. And how human that impulse to show her 
 picture! (Watch for other passages effective in winning our 
 liking for the little man). 
 
 53. We are skirting the edge of improbability here. Observe 
 how the next four paragraphs make the idea plausible. S. S. M., 
 90 : 9-10.
 
 A Quiet Life oe Life on the Quiet 197 
 
 I told you that, sir." The man's misery was apparent. 
 " I hoped, sir, that you could suggest some way, sir " 
 
 56. I was glad to rush to cover. I felt a sudden fear 
 that he might break into tears. I spoke heartily. 
 
 57. " Why, Opt, old scout, it's the easiest thing in the 
 world," I said. " I know the young buck she's about to 
 marry. Lie's a clerk in a store downtown. Very decent 
 chap. Suppose I just slip him the ring and let him make 
 the change? I'll say it's from the boarders here if you 
 don't want the credit. He'll be tickled to death. He's 
 scraping every cent for furniture. Do you suppose you 
 can trust me with it ? " 
 
 ic 58. Mr. Opt went into extremely subdued paroxysms 
 of joy. He grabbed the little case, snapped the lid shut, 
 and pressed it into my hands, holding it there with both 
 of his, as though fearful that I might withdraw my offer 
 of service. " Thank you, sir ! Thank you a thousand 
 times, sir ! " he exulted. '' A wonderful plan, sir — won- 
 derful. Let me thank you again, sir." 
 
 59. Mr. Opt started toward the door, still in that glid- 
 ing, noiseless fashion. He stopped with his hand on the 
 
 58, Another manifestation of the real Mr. Opt, who is quite 
 unlike the Mr. Opt that Mrs. Roddy and Doe Spears thought him. 
 A well-conceived character for such a situation (S. S. M., 217: 4) 
 could not plausibly lack positive qualities. Opt is tempera- 
 mentally impulsive (the notion of the ring, the sacrifice of him- 
 self in place of the maid, his hel^Ding with the sick baby), and 
 he has nerve and resource and force. 
 
 59. Third movement begins. We now approach that part of 
 the narrative in which the episodes of Opt's past appear — the 
 story within the sketch. But even yet we are not ready for it. 
 The consummation of the motivation for Opt's disclosures has to 
 be brought on, in the evening-study by the narrator of his cor-
 
 198 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 knob and looked back at me wistfully. I decided that the 
 man was lonely and felt a twinge of sympathy. 
 
 60. " Don't hurry, Opt," I said. " Come back and sit 
 down until I finish a little work here and we'll drift down 
 to the corner for a glass of beer." 
 
 Gl. He came back and again seated himself on the for- 
 ward edge of the chair. " Thank you very kindly, 
 sir," he murmured, " I will be very glad to accept, sir. 
 I suppose you don't mind, sir, if I take ginger 
 ale?" 
 
 62. The man's abject humility of words and manner 
 was too ludicrous for adequate description. Despite my 
 sense of the demands of hospitality, I was forced to laugh. 
 " Opt, you're a funny card," I chuckled shamelessly be- 
 tween guffaws. 
 
 63. Mr. Opt did not seem to mind. He even smiled 
 as his eyes met mine. " It's the ginger ale amuses you, 
 I suppose, sir," he said. " I have to be very careful of 
 my nerves, sir — not that a drink now and then isn't all 
 right for a healthy young man, sir," he finished with the 
 old note of apology in his voice. 
 
 64. I fell to work with a great rustling of papers, but 
 seemed unable to accomplish anything. I felt impelled 
 to glance at my guest every few minutes, and found each 
 time that he was watching me with his keen eyes. Then 
 I caught a yearning look, as though he repressed a ques- 
 
 respondenee-school bookkeeping. — In the course of this prepara- 
 tion (par. 65) occurs a subtle touch of class characterization. To 
 persons unaccustomed to literai-y employments or studious effort, 
 any form of study is mysterious, and vagnely associates itself 
 with literature — " he writes, or something." Opt's question is the 
 outcome of just such a vague notion of study. It appears again 
 in par. 72.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 199 
 
 tion or request with difficulty, and stopped. I leaned back 
 and lighted a cigarette. " I guess that will hold me for 
 tonight," I remarked. 
 
 65. Mr. Opt brightened. " I beg your pardon, sir," he 
 said timidly, " but you write, do you not, sir ? " The 
 question surprised me and I suppose I showed it. " I 
 mean you write for the newspapers, or books, or some- 
 thing," he explained. 
 
 66. I grinned as I denied the impeachment, and in- 
 formed him that I had no literary aspirations. " I'm a 
 shipping clerk, and this toil with pen and paper, wdiich 
 may resemble the outward and visible effort of budding 
 creative genius, is, instead, the mark of labor devoted to 
 acquisition of knowledge and practice of bookkeeping, 
 under the tutelage of a correspondence school," I told him 
 half jocularly. 
 
 67. I was a bit proud of my rhetorical flight. Mr. 
 Opt, however, seemed chagrined. " I'm sorry for my 
 mistake, sir," he said humbly. " Very sorry, indeed, sir. 
 I rather hoped " 
 
 68. " Perhaps I can help you," I interrupted. " If 
 you wish some ground and lofty writing performed maybe 
 I can do it for you." 
 
 69. Mr. Opt again smiled his tiny smile. 
 
 TO. " Oh, no, sir ! " he declared. " It's nothing at all, 
 sir." 
 
 66. An example of the shade too much of the narrator that 
 appears elsewhere also in the story. It is good enough, but not 
 essential. The narrator is useful in this story for but one thing — 
 to tell us about Opt. Therefore, the less he intrudes in person, 
 the better. S. S. M., 191 : 5 ; 107 : 30 ; 232 : 6 ; 80 : 3, and Genung, 
 Practical Els. of Rhetoric, " Economy." Cf . par. 40.
 
 200 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 71. We wate'licd each other closely for a inonieiit, with- 
 out speaking. Then Mr. Opt leaned forward. His air 
 was most confidential. 
 
 72. " It's how, sir," he began oddly. " It's how, sir, 
 somehow^ I got the idea that you was a writer — a paper 
 writer, or a hook w^riter, sir." 
 
 73. He pulled his chair a few inches closer and low- 
 ered his voice. 
 
 74. " You see, sir," he continued, " if you wei-e a 
 writer, sir, I thought maybe I could tell you something 
 that you could write, sir; something that would be inter- 
 esting, sir, and at the same time correct some great mis- 
 takes, sir." 
 
 75. He " hunched " his chair forward another few 
 inches. He scanned my face eagerly, as though seeking 
 some ray of hope for a cherished project. My curiosity 
 overcame any scruples I might have possessed. 
 
 76. " I have a number of friends in the writing busi- 
 ness," I lied glibly. " Tell me your tale and I'll pass 
 it on." 
 
 77. " Would you, sir ? " he begged. " It would be a 
 great favor, sir." 
 
 78. " It's about burglars, sir," he rushed on. I started. 
 
 79. " Oh, nothing wrong, I assure you, sir ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " Nothing that would harm your friends' papers, 
 sir. 
 
 80. " You see, it's like this, sir. I read a great deal, 
 sir — on the trains and the like, sir. And I've been read- 
 
 73, 75, 78, 80, 82, 85. Cf. first three sentences of note on 1-20.— 
 Note the steady climax in Opt's excitement, and its value as an 
 interest intensifier and suspense producer. S. S. M,, 108 :32-33 ; 
 112:39; 249, bottom.
 
 A Quiet Life ok Life on the Quiet 201 
 
 iiig a lot lately, sir, about burglars, sir." He showed signs 
 of suppressed excitement. " And they are all so very 
 wrong, sir — so very wrong! " 
 
 81. "How wrong?" I demanded, careless of form in 
 my desire to keep Mr. Opt on the leading thread of his 
 story. 
 
 82. " That's exactly what I am about to explain, sir," 
 he went on. " Exactly, sir." lie gestured with his hands, 
 which were slim and showed delicate blue veins. " It's 
 about the stories of burglars, sir." 
 
 83. I decided to cease my interruptions, which seemed 
 only to muddle my guest. " Go on," I instructed as I 
 leaned back in my chair, 
 
 84. " You see, sir," he said, " the young gentlemen — 
 and young ladies — who write about burglars, don't seem, 
 sir, to know anything about burglars, sir — nothing what- 
 ever, sir. I can tell it from their writings, sir." 
 
 85. His earnestness increased. " In the stories I read, 
 sir, it seems, sir, that burglars were either the lowest sort 
 of rascals — murderers, sir — or else they were heroes, sir 
 — willing to be arrested, sir; or shot, sir, to save the 
 ladies, sir. You may know what I mean, sir ? " he ques- 
 tioned, glancing over his shoulder as though fearing eaves- 
 dropping. " I read a story, sir, where a burglar allowed 
 
 85. Fourth movement begins, taking up at last the broken tale 
 of Opt's past. Observe that we have a thorough preparation now 
 to understand this histoiy; the preceding three movements have 
 gradually created a baekgi'ound and perspective for it by pro- 
 viding us with a setting for Opt with effective characterization 
 of him (but incomplete; S. S. M., 163:18), and with a basic 
 exposition of the theme which is now to be developed through 
 Opt's narrative. Here cf. introd. note 4.
 
 202 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 himself to be shot just to give the lady's lover a chance to 
 get away, sir. He was shot by the master, sir." 
 
 86. " Did the old man tumble ? " I burst in, unable to 
 control my curiosity over the outcome of the fictional 
 drama of high life. 
 
 87. " Oh, no, sir ! I suppose you mean was the lady's 
 indiscretion discovered, sir? Not at all, sir — at least not 
 in the story, sir," he qualified. 
 
 88. '' But that isn't it, sir," he continued. " That 
 isn't it. What I object to, sir, is writing about things that 
 never could occur to a burglar, sir. It gives people like 
 Mrs. Roddy an entirely wrong estimate of burglars, sir." 
 
 89. His last sentence had the solemnity of an indict- 
 ment. I decided on an attempt to wonn out a definite 
 expression of the views of my odd guest. 
 
 90. " Look here, Mr. Opt," I demanded. " What are 
 you getting at ? That there is no romance in a burglar's 
 life ? Is that what you mean ? " 
 
 87. S. S.M., 182:6 (sents. 1-2). The author's conception of 
 the character and personality of Opt is corajDlete, consistent, and 
 detailed. Note Opt's language here — a delightfully unconscious 
 parroting of one type of those crook-hero stories he confesses to 
 having read freely, and condemns as false to fact. The con- 
 sistency^ goes further; Opt not only talks like a conventional hero- 
 thief because he has read crook romances, but also he talks unlike 
 conventional crooks because he uses none of the crook cant, found 
 in the other class of crook stories. It is the rank outsider, the 
 shipping-c'.erk, who shows that tendency. In brief, the author 
 has conceived his central person with extreme clearness, and 
 made him consistent to the last detail — a thoroughly indi- 
 vidualized person. See S. S. M., 208-212; 90:9-14; and index 
 (Character, Characterization) passim. 
 
 89. Human nature; an able man in any calling is jealous of its 
 reputation. Incidentally, the paragraph may cause us to reflect 
 on the ease with which environment affects our ethical standards. 
 Cf. par. 94.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 203 
 
 91. The man's face was transfigured as though with 
 inner joy. " That's the word, sir — romance, sir," he said 
 happily. " That's exactly what I was trying to say, sir. 
 I wish to make it plain that there is — positively — no ro- 
 mance in the life of a burglar, sir ; simply hard work, sir ; 
 hard work and great nervous strain, sir." 
 
 92. I will admit a certain feeling of apprehension that 
 was rather increased than allayed by Mr. Opt's little smile. 
 Possibility that the man might be a little insane flashed 
 through my mind. I recollected his promised acceptance 
 of my earlier invitation and ventured to renew it. 
 
 93. " How about that little drink, Opt ? " I inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 94. " Oh, please, sir ! " he begged. " Just a few mo- 
 ments. Just while I explain — explain so that you can 
 make it plain to your writer friends that burglars as a 
 class have been greatly maligned — maligned is the word, 
 I believe ? That they are hard-working men with no ro- 
 mance in their lives, sir. Kone at all, sir." 
 
 95. I could not resist his plea, but decided to end our 
 little confab as soon as possible. " All right, Mr. Opt," I 
 said rather briskly. " I can't see where your theory of 
 hard work and lack of romance in a burglar's life is of 
 great interest to a busy world, but I have no objection to 
 hearing you out." I was struck with a new idea. " By 
 the way, Opt," I queried, " how do you come to know so 
 much about burglars ? " 
 
 96. Mr. Opt looked at me solemnly. " Why shouldn't 
 I know all about burglars, sir ? " he questioned simply. 
 
 91. Opt's view is at last worded definitely. Cf. note 5-20. 
 96. Motivated skillfully. Doubt seems to be thrown on Opt's 
 qualification to speak with authority on the matter that evidently
 
 '204: Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 " Why shouldn't a man know about his own business, 
 sir?" 
 
 97. I was too startled to speak, but my involuntary 
 jump seemed to enlighten my guest. 
 
 98. " Excuse me, sir," he apologized. " Please ex- 
 cuse me. I believed I had told you that I w^as a burglar, 
 sir. It must be my failing memory, sir. Yes, sir; I've 
 followed the profession for twenty years, sir. ISTearly half 
 my life, sir. And I never had w^hat you might call an 
 adventure in my life, sir." 
 
 99. I made no attempt to disguise my stare at the self- 
 confessed criminal who was my guest. I took time to 
 examine his slight frame ; the delicate hands, hardly larger 
 than a girl's, the thinning hair and stooped shoulders that 
 gave him the appearance of a superannuated clerk or 
 bookkeeper. I compared him mentally with the generally 
 accepted idea of the low-browed, thuggish, murderous in- 
 vader of homes. I felt inclined to laugh. 
 
 100. " Don't you think you're taking a long chance in 
 giving yourself away to me ? " I asked him. 
 
 101. Mr. Opt showed no sign of disquietude. " Oh, 
 no, sir," he returned calmly. " You're a gentleman, sir. 
 I could see you were a gentleman right away, sir. I knew 
 
 has given him long concern. Human nature, class feeling, and the 
 judgment of men that he has developed (pars. 100-101), unite 
 to produce the disclosure that proves he knows what he is talking 
 about. This story presents several instances of such keen, shrewd, 
 natural motivation (see S. S. M., 90:9-92). Hence its increased 
 plausibility upon study. 
 
 99. A paragraph of eoncentrative description, serving to em- 
 phasize Opt's disclosure (retarded movement) and to renew our 
 sense of the contrast between him and his occupation, or at least, 
 between him and the conventional burglar " types."
 
 A Quiet Life oe Life on the Quiet 205 
 
 you would treat anything I told you as strictly confiden- 
 tial, sir. I have been very close to gentlemen in my life, 
 sir. I never make a mistake in picking a gentleman," he 
 finished with no apparent attempt at flattery. 
 
 102. He dismissed the point with a wave of his hand. 
 " Now about burglars, sir," he resumed. 
 
 103. " How did you come to take up burgling for a 
 living ? " I broke in. 
 
 104. Mr. Opt evidently resented the interruption but 
 was unable to combat his desire to please. 
 
 105. " It was the prison, sir. That's it, sir. After 
 the prison it seemed that there was nothing else I could 
 do, sir." 
 
 106. '"You! In prison?" I demanded. 
 
 107. " Oh, yes, sir. I was in prison, sir. Two years, 
 sir. I suppose I should have told you right away, sir." 
 He bowed his head. 
 
 108. " Did they catch you burgling? " I queried. 
 
 109. " Oh, sir, no ! " he insisted. " Not at all, sir." 
 
 104. A detail fundamentally true to the conception of Opt's 
 charactei". On impulse Opt is resolute and nervy; likewise, any 
 conduct he has become accustomed to he continues from habit, 
 with no sense of its true quality — for example, robbing. But there 
 is also a strain of weakness in him, that prevents him from 
 resisting pressure except on impulse or through the momentum 
 of habit. Accordingly, he yields to all these confusing interrup- 
 tions; in the same way, he yielded under the pressure of circum- 
 stances when he became a burglar. The criminal character always 
 has a defect like this, sufficient to offset the qualities of positive 
 strength. Opt, therefore, is an individual burglar true never- 
 theless to the class character. 
 
 109. Find other instances of a suppressed sense of humor in 
 Opt. — The detail is true to the general conception. As there is "no 
 romance " in burglary, there can be no tragedy in it ; life merely 
 played something of a joke on him by making him a burglar.
 
 20G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 He smiled quizzically. " I really hadn't done anything, 
 sir." 
 
 110. " Well in the name of Peter Cook! " I exclaimed. 
 I felt a deep desire to grab Mr. Opt's story by its meta- 
 phorical tail and drag it from the hole of his past. I got 
 no further. 
 
 111. " It was nothing, sir," Mr. Opt broke in. " I 
 don't blame the master, sir. ISTot at all, sir. He could 
 hardly do anything else, sir. It was either I or Florette, 
 sir. Either she or I, sir." 
 
 112. '' Florette ! " I grabbed at the new point. " Who 
 the blazes is Florette ? " 
 
 113. "Florette?" he repeated after me. "Oh, of 
 course you could not have known, sir, that Florette was 
 the second maid, sir." 
 
 114. My patience was waning. I stood up, then paced 
 across the room and back. Mr. Opt did not raise his eyes. 
 
 115. " Xow look here. Opt," I insisted when I was 
 seated again. " Let's get this thing straightened out be- 
 
 lli this, the weak side of his character appears, as well as that 
 quality of his disposition which has led him to accept things as 
 they come, without enough struggle against them to embitter 
 life. (Observe too that this is a quality quite likely to exist 
 in many members of the serving class ; Opt was a " gentleman's 
 man.") 
 
 111. The author turns to account Opt's way of plumping out 
 unexpected facts by making it give prominence to Florette (note 
 the romantic name!). It is necessary for us to have the feeling of 
 Florette's part in the Opt drama, yet she can be scarcely more 
 than mentioned. To introduce her thus emphatically arouses our 
 curiosity about her and increases our sense of her importance in 
 the history. — The conventional crook story of love and sentiment 
 are present in Opt's narrative — the gentleman's man, in love with
 
 A Quiet Life or Li-fe on the Quiet 207 
 
 fore I begin to see pink things with green wings. If I 
 understand this, you are trying to convince me that the 
 ordinary burglar is just a common run of man with a 
 trade that has neither romance nor adventure. He is 
 neither a Raffles nor a yegg. And you are trying to prove 
 it with your own story ! Am I right ? " 
 
 116. " Yes, sir," Mr. Opt answered. " I think I fol- 
 low you. You see, sir " 
 
 117. " ISTow go to it ! " I ordered. " Tell the history of 
 your life. Begin with Florette and the master and any- 
 thing else concerned in your trip to the jug." 
 
 118. Mr. Opt nodded his acquiescence. " I will, sir," 
 he said. 
 
 119. " You see, sir, Florette was the second maid, as 
 I told you. I was a gentleman's man, sir; attended the 
 master, sir, when the brooch was taken " 
 
 120. " What brooch ? " I interrupted. 
 
 121. " Oh, the mistress's brooch, sir," he explained. 
 " You see, sir, Florette was tempted beyond endurance, 
 sir. It was too much for her. 
 
 122. " She might have returned it, sir," he insisted 
 hurriedly. " I am sure she would have returned it. But 
 you see the mistress discovered that it was gone and there 
 was an awful go, sir — an awful go. When we were all 
 put in the dining room to be searched by the police there 
 was no chance, sir. She had it in her apron pocket, sir." 
 
 the second maid; she yields to temptation, and to save her the 
 gentleman's man assumes guilt. Later there appears the hounded- 
 by-police motif, to account for criminal career, with the bur- 
 glar-saving-sick-child situation. The difference between this story 
 and the conventional one is the extremely skillful use made of 
 these materials by the author and the originality he shows in 
 organizing them for presentation.
 
 208 Today's Short -Stories Analyzed 
 
 123. " Who had it in whose apron pocket?" I asked 
 the clumsy question with a sarcasm that was lost on Mr. 
 Opt. 
 
 124. " Florctte, sir. I thought I told you, sir. They 
 w^ould have found it in a moment, sir. As it was, I had 
 trouble convincing them, sir." 
 
 125. " Convincing them of what ? " I asked. 
 
 126. " Convincing them that I took it, sir," he replied 
 with apparent surprise. " You see, I had to tell them that 
 I dropped it in her pocket, and they seemed to doubt me, 
 sir. You see, I had seen her grab the pocket in her fright, 
 sir." 
 
 127. " Do you mean to tell me. Opt, that you confessed 
 to stealing and went to prison to save a thieving maid ? " 
 I demanded. I guess there was contempt in my voice. 
 Mr. Opt became earnest. 
 
 128. "Oh, she wasn't exactly a thieving maid, sir — 
 not at all, sir. Just a girl, sir ; a mere child, sir ; tempted 
 for a moment, as we might say, sir. It would have been 
 terrible for her — the prison, I mean, sir. Since w^e were 
 married, sir " 
 
 129. " Wait, Opt ! " I was in a maze. " Is Florette 
 your wife ? " 
 
 130. " Yes, sir," he returned. " Yes, sir. I loved her. 
 
 126. " With apparent surprise " because Opt's is a one-rut 
 mind ; he sees only one of the several possibilities in any situation, 
 and that thing therefore appears to him perfectly obvious. His 
 impulses being generous, he thinks that there is nothing remark- 
 able about taking the guilt; it was the only thing that could be 
 done. He does not realize that he was a " hero." 
 
 130. Yet Opt thinks there is no romance in his career! In par, 
 131, the author emphasizes this impression of the reader's by 
 putting it into words.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 209 
 
 You see, she waited for me. We were married the day I 
 came out of prison, sir. I didn't tell you that my wife 
 was Florette, did I, sir ? " he said, as though apologizing 
 for an omission. 
 
 131. I felt a sudden admiration for the little man who 
 told me his story of heroism so simply. " Well, for a man 
 who is using his life story to prove that romance is dead 
 you are making a good start," I ventured. " What hap- 
 pened when you came out ? " 
 
 132. " Well, you see, sir, I had no character and it was 
 impossible to get a place, sir. Really impossible, sir. I 
 tried everything, sir. Worked with a pick in the street, 
 sir; and on the railroad, sir. We might have made out 
 but for the baby, sir." 
 
 133. " The baby ? " I decided to miss no details. 
 
 134. "Yes, sir; our boy, sir. He's in college now, 
 sir," he said proudly. " The mother was very sick, sir. 
 A long time, sir. It took all our little savings, sir — the 
 illness did, sir — that and the car fare, sir." 
 
 135. " Car fare ? " I asked. I had discovered that I 
 could sidetrack the little man with the most laconic query. 
 
 131 ff. Observe that, were all Opt's career put into a narrative 
 by itself, we should have a tale, not a eonte (S. S. M., 8-23). Its 
 two leading divisions would provide, separately, situations for 
 two contes. 
 
 133 ff. The domestic side of Opt's life affords further contrast 
 with its romance of crookery. The generous and " human " quali- 
 ties of him and his wife are doubly useful in the story : they pre- 
 serve the conventions of the interesting crook hero and heroine 
 types and win our kindly favor for Opt and Florette, thus con- 
 tributing to emotional appeal (S. S. M., 57: 6, 63: 14). There is 
 a climax of this sort of appeal extending to par. 148, and it 
 appears in other paragraphs further on. (Pick them out.)
 
 210 Today's Short Stoeies Analyzed 
 
 130. " Yes, sir. He was but a lad, sir. It was a boy 
 I met in prison, sir. A splendid lad, sir. You see, he 
 was sick, sir — sick and broken-hearted, sir. He was a 
 victim of the police, sir. They would soon have made a 
 bad man of him, sir. He could not escape from them. 
 You see, he struck the son of a big politician for insult- 
 ing a girl, sir. He was the son of a widow and had no 
 friends, sir. He was sentenced to a year and placed with 
 the worst criminals in the prison, sir. When he got out 
 the police had orders to hound him on every occasion. We 
 felt sorry for him, sir." 
 
 137. " What did you do ? " I inquired. 
 
 138. " We gave him enough money to go West, sir. 
 Only a few dollars, but it was all we had, sir." 
 
 139. " That left you broke? " I ventured. 
 
 140. "Yes, sir; without a cent, sir. But if it hadn't 
 
 been for the police, sir " He shivered slightly as 
 
 though at recollections of some deep fear. 
 
 141. " You see, sir," he explained, " the police found 
 out about our helping the boy out of the city and beyond 
 their reach. They punished me, sir." 
 
 142. He seemed content to drop the subject of the 
 police. I wished to hear more. " What did they do ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 143. " Oh, everything, sir ! " He lowered his voice 
 until it was almost a whisper. I thought I saw tears in 
 his eyes. 
 
 144. " You see, sir, the police knew that I had been in 
 prison. They used that against me, sir. They told my 
 employers — every one, sir. I could get no work, sir. 
 Then when I couldn't go out "
 
 A Quiet Life oe Life on the Quiet 211 
 
 145. " What kept you from going out ? " I demanded. 
 
 146. " The police, sir," he answered, as though sur- 
 prised at my ignorance. " The police. They arrested me 
 every time I went out on the street, sir. They said I was 
 an habitual criminal — a dangerous man, sir. Once I was 
 clubbed, sir." 
 
 147. " What for ? " I insisted. 
 
 148. " I was trying to get some bread, sir. I bought 
 it — a stale loaf for three cents, sir. I was taking it to our 
 room, sir, when a policeman arrested me. Said I stole it, 
 sir. W^hen I proved I bought it, sir, they clubbed me, 
 sir." 
 
 149. " How did it end ? " I queried. 
 
 150. " I was coming to that, sir. You see when they 
 stopped the charitable ladies " 
 
 151. " What's that? " I feared to miss a detail. 
 
 152. " Oh, you see, the ladies had been helping my 
 wife ; bringing her coal and food, sir. Then they were 
 told that I was a loafer, sir; a mere loafer and jail- 
 bird, sir. I offered to go without food myself if they 
 would allow my wife to have it, sir. I told the ladies so, 
 sir. God bless them, sir." 
 
 153. "What did the ladies do?" I asked as he 
 paused. 
 
 154. "They were very kind, sir; and very angry at 
 the police, sir. They made the deuce of a row, sir. But 
 it was no use, sir. They told me it was no use, sir. They 
 advised me to leave, sir. 
 
 155. " Then I left, sir. Slipped out at night, sir. I 
 went to Chicago, sir." 
 
 156. " And your wife ? " I suggested. 
 
 157.. " The charitable ladies took care of her until I
 
 212 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 sent for her, sir; for a year, sir. They were very good, 
 sir." 
 
 158. He seemed to liave completed his domestic story. 
 " How did you come to take up burglary as a regular 
 job?" I asked. 
 
 159. " I hardly know how to tell you, sir," he said. 
 " You see I had to have money to send my wife and the 
 baby, sir. I was afraid to ask for work — afraid of the 
 police, sir. So I stole, sir." 
 
 IGO. "How often have you been pinched since?" I 
 queried. 
 
 161. " Oh, never, sir ! " There was pride in his voice. 
 " I suppose you mean arrested, sir ? The police are really 
 most stupid — most stupid when matched against men with 
 brains. You see I planned carefully — very carefully. I 
 told you of the mental strain, sir. You see, sir, that I 
 never took anything but money, sir — nothing but money. 
 And always from the rich — always from those who could 
 afford it, sir. You see, sir, I had been a gentleman's man 
 as I said, sir, and I could always make my plans with the 
 knowledge gained while I w^as employed in big houses, sir." 
 
 162. "Have you made a living?" I asked. 
 
 163. " Oh, yes, sir," he answered. " A very good liv- 
 
 163. Another element of contrast — the burglar retiring to a life 
 of domestic peace in his later years. Observe how a judicious 
 perspective is maintained in this story, by offsetting the highly 
 romantic, adventurous, and sentimental with the domestic, busi- 
 ness-like, and matter of fact — e.g., Opt's accumulation of a bank 
 account ; his providing a college education for his son. This 
 further reveals the author's intention to sketch forth a burglarious 
 career that is not all crime, nor all romance, as the crook stories 
 and plays may show it, nor yet all a hard matter-of-fact pursuit 
 of business, as Opt thinks it.,
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 213 
 
 ing, sir. In fact I have enough to live on, sir. I am about 
 to retire, sir. I leave for home tomorrow, sir. That's 
 why I asked you about the ring, sir. I " 
 
 164. I felt a twinge of suspicion. He stopped and 
 watched me as I pulled the ring from my pocket. " Opt, 
 did you steal " 
 
 165. He gestured protest. " Oh, no, sir! " He seemed 
 pained. " Please don't think that of me, sir." He rose 
 abruptly. " Good night, sir," he said as he sidled through 
 the door. 
 
 166. I dreamed of Mr. Opt that night. At breakfast 
 my preoccupation attracted the attention of Rebecca our 
 maid and waitress. " Law, mister, you can't eat soft- 
 b'iled eggs with a fork," she observed. " You look like 
 you been seein' a ha'nt." When I went out I found Mr. 
 Opt waiting in the hall. We left the house together. He 
 walked by my side for a block before he spoke. 
 
 167. " I wish to apologize, sir," he began. 
 
 168. I could think of nothing requiring apology and 
 said so. He seemed surprised. 
 
 169. " I am so glad, sir," he said. " I was afraid that 
 I was discourteous in leaving you so abruptly last night. 
 And I wished to bid you good-by, sir," he continued. 
 
 165. Opt is a man of sensibilities, with a regard for certain 
 proprieties quite as much as any other citizen. 
 
 166. Here begins what may be regarded as the falling action of 
 the boarding-house plot. In this falling action is included the 
 final incident to Opt's narrative, providing a final " punch " 
 (intensifying incident). With some stretching of terms, we can 
 regard pars. 196-197 in this stage as containing the moment of 
 final suspense. The height of our interest in Opt's adventure 
 comes at this point.
 
 214 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 170. " You're really going then? " I asked. " Where's 
 your baggage ? " 
 
 171. " Oh, yes, sir," he replied. " Going on the next 
 train, sir. I thought you might walk to the station with 
 me," he said wistfully. ^' I have something to explain, 
 sir. About my baggage, sir," he went on. " I always 
 leave it, sir. That's one of my precautions, sir. Never 
 have baggage to be traced, sir." I looked at him sharply, 
 lie must have read my thought. " Oh, it's all right, sir. 
 I have paid board three weeks in advance, sir. The good 
 Mrs. Roddy will lose nothing, sir." 
 
 172. We walked on in silence for a time; then I felt 
 him tug at my sleeve. 
 
 173. " About the ring, sir," he said timidly. " I hope 
 you impugn no wrong motive, sir. You see, sir, we con- 
 sider it a point of honor to help the young, sir. Especially 
 the young ladies, sir. Miss Truax might have discovered 
 that her ring was plated — that it was bogus, sir. It 
 might have made her very unhappy, sir. And we try to 
 help young ladies, sir ; as we would wish our own 
 daughter " 
 
 174. " You have a daughter ? " I inquired. 
 
 175. " Oh, yes, sir. A beautiful girl, sir. She is 
 about to be married, sir. That's one of the reasons why 
 I am quitting " 
 
 176. He stopped without naming his unlawful voca- 
 tion. He paused for a moment before he spoke again. 
 
 177. " You see, sir," he resumed, " I was afraid you 
 might think that I was using the ring to enlist your sym- 
 pathy — to get you to take up for burglars in your writ- 
 ings — or in your friends' writings, sir. I really had no 
 such intention, I assure you, sir. I meant only to appeal
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 215 
 
 to your sense of justice, sir. That was all, sir. To have 
 you believe that burglars may be human — just like other 
 men, sir." 
 
 178. We were approaching the station and had slowed 
 our pace. I turned to look at the patient little figure at 
 my side — and could not repress a grin. I slapped Mr. 
 Opt on the back. 
 
 179. " Oh, you concentrated essence of crime," I 
 chuckled. " You thief without guile. You adventurer 
 without adventures. Jugged for a good deed ; then crim- 
 inal for twenty years — and never caught red " 
 
 180. '' Beg pardon, sir," Mr. Opt broke in. " I hope 
 I did not give you the impression that I was never caught, 
 sir. I meant that I was never arrested, sir. Simj)ly that, 
 sir. You see, the lady was so good, sir." 
 
 181. I grabbed his arm. " Tell me about the lady, 
 Opt," I demanded. We had entered the station. Mr. 
 Opt looked at the clock nervously and compared his watch. 
 " If you'll walk out to the train, sir," he agreed. 
 
 182. " There is really nothing to tell, sir. Nothing but 
 the kindness of the lady, sir. Somebody would surely 
 have reached her in time to save the baby, sir." 
 
 183. " Another baby ? " I gasped. 
 
 184. " Oh, the lady's baby, sir. You see, I never 
 should have entered the house; but I needed the money 
 very badly, sir. It was while our girl was little, sir — 
 about two years old, sir. We were very poor yet, sir. 
 
 185. " You see, sir, I was desperate — really desperate. 
 I entered the house through the basement. Careless sei'v- 
 ants left the window open. It tempted me, sir. I saw
 
 210 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the light in the nursery, sir; but it was far out in the 
 wing, and 1 thought I was safe. I went to the second 
 floor, sir. I had just found the money in the master's 
 room, sir — over a hundred dollars, sir. I hid behind the 
 curtains when I heard the lady come from the nursery. 
 
 186. " She was crying — crying pitifully, sir. And 
 begging over the telephone, sir. It was a lonely house out 
 in the suburbs, sir. ' Won't you please send the doctor ! ' 
 she kept saying. ' I tell you he's dying — my baby ! ' 
 
 187. " I could hear the baby, sir. That awful choking 
 of croup, sir. What else could I do, sir ? " 
 
 188. " What did you do ? " I demanded. 
 
 189. " I put the money back, sir. And went to her, 
 sir. She was all alone in the house with the baby, sir. 
 Her husband was away and the servants had deserted her 
 to go to a party while she was holding the sick child, sir. 
 They didn't know it was serious, sir — not at all, sir," he 
 apologized for them. 
 
 190. " Did the lady scream ? " I asked. 
 
 191. " Oh, no, sir. She only wanted help, sir. I be- 
 lieve the doctor was on his way, sir. There were no motor 
 cars in those days, you know," he explained. 
 
 192. " Did you save the baby ? " I inquired. 
 
 193. ^' Oh, yes, sir. You see I knew something of the 
 disease, sir. Our boy had it, sir. So I went to the stable 
 and got some lime. Slacked it in a bucket, sir. And we 
 held the baby's face in the vapor, sir. He was quite easy 
 when the doctor came, sir." 
 
 194. We reached the train and Mr. Opt stepped up on 
 the platform of the last car. " Did she tell the doctor you 
 was a burglar ? " I hurried my question.
 
 A Quiet Life or Life on the Quiet 217 
 
 195. " Oh, no, sir. He never asked, sir. We were 
 very busy until the servants returned, sir. Then he left 
 the house while I was locked up, sir, and " 
 
 196. " Locked up? " I snapped, in an effort to get the 
 story before the train started. 
 
 197. " Yes, sir," Mr. Opt stated placidly. " You see, 
 the servants took me for a burglar, sir, and locked me in 
 the coal bin. But she released me as soon as she heard of 
 it, sir. She asked me about myself, sir. I told her about 
 my little girl. She seemed much interested, sir. When 
 I left her she thanked me very much. And then she gave 
 me some money, sir. She was very good, sir. I hurried 
 back home, one hand holding the money and the other the 
 shoes, sir." 
 
 198. The train moved. I ran alongside. 
 
 199. " What shoes ? " I yelled. 
 
 200. Mr. Opt leaned far out to make his apology. 
 
 201. " I thought I told you, sir. The pair of shoes 
 she gave me for my baby, sir." 
 
 202. The absence of Mr. Opt was a subject for com- 
 ment ^t dinner that night. 
 
 203. Miss Bessie Truax kept her left hand above the 
 table throughout the meal. She flashed the diamond in 
 
 201. A skillful employment of a " sure-fire " human-sympathy 
 touch as the final efiieet-producer. 
 
 202. The separate close. See S. S. M., 169-175, especially par. 
 6. Note the touch of irony in Miss T's estimate of Opt while she 
 is flaunting the ring that his mistaken gratitude led him to pro- 
 vide her. This and Doc Spears' comment afford the philosophical 
 commentary on the theme, and give the final emphasis to the con- 
 tradictions on which the conception of Opt and the structure of 
 the story are based.
 
 2 IS Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 her new engagement ring as she emphasized her remarks 
 with gestures. 
 
 204. " Nice, quiet little man," she commented. " Looks 
 kinda close-fisted and not likely to allow any nickels to 
 roll past him to anybody else, though." 
 
 205. ^" Don't know how such scary little skates get 
 along in New -York," Doc Spears offered in judgment. 
 " lie ought to beat it out to some little burg before he 
 gets stepped on. I'd die if I had to lead a quiet life like 
 such guys. I need excitement, I do ! "
 
 LITTLE SUNBEAM 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " Little Sunbeam " may not be, in the strict sense, a 
 conte. The editor recommends that the student have the 
 question stated for debate by his debating society, and 
 agrees to accept the conclusion — if any — so reached. He 
 himself prefers to consider this particular story mainly 
 with reference to other matters. But he will go so far as 
 to say that the use made by the author of his plot-incidents 
 is non-dramatic; he is not aiming primarily at a stage- 
 crisis, but at certain effects quite different from those pro- 
 duced by a stage-crisis. See S. S. M., 24: 1-5. He has 
 elected to make his plot merely the supporting framework 
 for character and atmosphere materials (see notes 3-4). 
 Consequently, he lays no emphasis on the plot as such. If, 
 however, the series of incidents going to make up the plot 
 were presented directly, it might be so managed as to be- 
 come a sketch or tale or a conte ; for there is complication, 
 conflict, and outcome in it, 
 
 2. But here the series is not told directly. Therein lies 
 much of the sprightliness and novelty of the story. The 
 idea of making the letters of a cross-roads correspondent 
 reveal her own love story is refreshingly unusual. 
 
 3. The resourcefulness and skill of the author are fur- 
 ther manifested in the success he achieves in making Lit- 
 tle Sunbeam's letters characterize her own and several 
 other familiar types of small-town people. See next note. 
 (Other stories containing social characterization of like 
 
 219
 
 220 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 classes are " The Last Rose," " A Rag-Time Lady," and 
 " The Defective.") 
 
 4. As a result of the class-characterization mentioned, 
 we have amusingly good-natured satire effectively char- 
 acterizing aspects of small-town life (social characteriza- 
 tion ; S. S. M., 257). The author aimed largely at achiev- 
 ing this characterization of types and society, a fact that 
 explains the non-dramatic attitude he has chosen to take 
 toward his plot. 
 
 5. Ingeniously woven into the letters, contributing to 
 the fabric and especially to the satirical tone of the nar- 
 rative, is material from the stock of conventional anecdotes 
 of newspaper offices ; e.g., the wedding report without the 
 name of the bridegroom, and the report of a feud-fight and 
 the long list of victims with the casual remark that " an 
 unfortunate occurrence marred the serene calm of our 
 Sabbath afternoon " and no further explanation of the 
 cause of the violence than the careless sentence " it is 
 rumored there was ill feeling between the men." (These 
 illustrate how very ordinary material may prove usable.) 
 Skillful integration (S. S. M.,166: 23) is likewise accom- 
 plished by making the narrator a newspaper man and hav- 
 ing him maintain toward the persons and incidents the 
 cynically satirical attitude that newspaper experience so 
 often develops. Fortunately a laughing disposition goes 
 with this newspaper man's cynicism and his satire is 
 tolerant and good-natured. On the " angle of narration," 
 as here excellently illustrated, see S. S. M., 138 : 3-4.
 
 LITTLE SUNBEAM 
 By George Pattullo 
 
 Reprinted by Permission from " Every Week " for June 18, 1917. 
 (Copyrighted, 1917; all rights reserved) 
 
 1. Little Sunbeam first came into our lives with a fat 
 letter from Ivanhoe, containing a faithful account of the 
 doings at a social on the spacious grounds of the par- 
 sonage, in aid of destitute Belgians. It appeared from 
 her write-up that the feature of the program was a reci- 
 tation by Miss Bertine Biggerstaff, who rendered " Her 
 Sister's Beau " very acceptably, and responded with a 
 vocal solo as an encore. 
 
 2. Now, Ivanhoe was nineteen miles from anywhere 
 and little more than a wide place in the road, so we man- 
 aged to keep our temperature somewhat below fever heat 
 over the event and published half a stick of her contribu- 
 tion. And we didn't pay her for that, because Little Sun- 
 beam had neglected to inclose her name, giving the ex- 
 planation that she preferred employment of a nom de 
 plume, and that any items of interest she could find for 
 the Booster would be a labor of love, inasmuch as she read 
 the paper religiously, and hoped some day to realize her 
 dream of becoming an author; and did we think this sort 
 of work good training, or would we recommend taking a 
 correspondence course in the art of the short story? 
 
 3. Next week she gave us some more. Her budget was 
 labeled " Ivanhoe Gleanings," and read like this : 
 
 221
 
 222 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 4. " Miss Bortine Biggerstaff gave an exhibition of 
 china-painting at Don Blackburn's picture store on Fri- 
 day last. Many exquisite designs were shown, consisting 
 of plates, cups, and saucers, and three vases. Miss Big- 
 gerstaff studied for two months under Mrs. Gus Le 
 Strange of St. Jo, Missouri, and connoisseurs predict a 
 brilliant future for this talented young lady in whatever 
 field she may elect to conquer. 
 
 5. " An unfortunate occurrence marred the serene calm 
 of our Sabbath afternoon. Buck Ballew, aged twenty-six, 
 was shot through the neck. Andy Ballew, a brother, was 
 shot through the right leg, and the bone shattered just 
 above the knee, the bullet ranging upward. Chester Bal- 
 lew, another brother, was beaten over the head with a hard 
 substance and severely hurt. Bodie Ballew, a cousin, was 
 cut with a knife. James Ballew, known as the Gray Wolf 
 of Eed Bottom, had three ribs fractured and his scalp cut. 
 Ike Ballew " 
 
 6. But it would take half a day to call the tally of the 
 injured furnished by Little Sunbeam, for we haven't even 
 touched on the Cunninghams yet. Here goes : 
 
 7. " Bert Cunningham lost two teeth and the lobe of 
 his left ear. Archie Cunningham had his neck and shoul- 
 der slashed, requiring seven stitches. Uncle Davy Cun- 
 ningham was rendered unconscious by a blow from some 
 hard substance as he was in the act of striking one of the 
 Ballews with a breast-yoke. Young Lee Cunningham was 
 wounded in the shoulder by a charge of buckshot. Grandpa 
 Cunningham was rendered senseless by a missile thrown 
 with great force by somebody whose identity has not yet 
 been established, but who is thought to have been a 
 Ballew.
 
 Little Sunbeam 223 
 
 8. " It is rumored there was ill feeling between the 
 men." 
 
 9. That was all — every word of her despatch. 
 
 10. " That's what I call good work. It's accurate," 
 declared Sam Bastedo, our printer, who was always a 
 stickler for chronological order. " It behooves us to hire 
 that lady. Cap." 
 
 11. Little Sunbeam's next offering in the " Gleanings " 
 was: 
 
 12. " Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Witherspoon, has returned from college and is the guest of 
 his parents at their handsome brick home on Toney 
 Avenue. He expects to be in Ivanhoe only a short time, 
 and will then go out into the world to engage in his life- 
 work. Mr. Witherspoon states that he has not yet decided 
 what career he will embrace, but announces that he pre- 
 fers life in the larger cities, and will probably make his 
 home in one of the great metropolises. 
 
 13. " At the morning service in the church last Sun- 
 day, Miss Bertine Biggerstaff rendered a vocal solo very 
 acceptably. This gifted young lady was in pleasing voice, 
 and her rendering of ' The Palms' was enjoyed by a fair- 
 sized congregation that would have been larger, only it 
 rained and the roads were bad." 
 
 14. About a fortnight later she broke out again: 
 
 15. " It is reported that Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son 
 of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, contem- 
 plates removal to Washington to accept a position in the 
 Department of Agriculture. Just what his duties will be 
 is not yet known definitely, but that he will be a pro- 
 nounced acquisition to the government of the United
 
 224 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 States goes without saying. His hosts of friends in Ivan- 
 hoe, and indeed wherever this brilliant young man has 
 been, wish him unbounded success in his chosen career. 
 Some recognition of the prominent part Dr. Witherspoon 
 has always taken in Democratic politics has long been felt 
 to be his due, and therefore it caused no surprise when 
 the report leaked out that his only son had been oifered 
 an honorable and lucrative situation at the Nation's 
 capital." 
 
 16. But a hitch must have occurred, for Little Sun- 
 beam did not send any follow-up on this item. She for- 
 warded a few lines about a meeting of the Chaminade 
 Club at the mansion of Mrs. Dink Sparger on Toney 
 Avenue, at which Miss Bertine Biggerstaff rendered a 
 violin solo very acceptably, her chosen piece being Han- 
 del's Largo ; but of Mr. Dupree Witherspoon not a syllable 
 for an entire month. Then one day the tension was 
 broken : 
 
 17. " Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, has accepted a position 
 with the Red Front Drug Store, and will enter on his new 
 duties immediately. After a careful survey of various 
 fields, this popular young man has decided to settle down 
 in Ivanhoe, and declares that the old town is good enough 
 for him or anybody. Is it a coincidence, or something 
 deeper, that the gentlemanly proprietor of the Red Front 
 is about to install a marble soda-fountain in his place of 
 business ? 
 
 18. " However that may be, the Red Front Drug Store 
 and its proprietor may well be congratulated on securing 
 the services of Mr. Witherspoon. He is bound to be- 
 speak for his employer a large trade."
 
 Little Sunbeam 225 
 
 19. We did some editing on this announcement, for we 
 were rapidly becoming fed up on Dupree; but it did not 
 discourage Little Sunbeam. She came back with : 
 
 20. '' The annual ball of the Volunteer Fire Brigade 
 will be held in the hall above the Red Front Drug Store 
 on Friday night, the twenty-fourth of November. Invi- 
 tations have been sent broadcast throughout the county and 
 the State, which will be well represented by its chivalry 
 and fair daughters. 
 
 21. " The grand march will be led by Mr. Dupree 
 Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Wither spoon of Toney 
 Avenue, and there is much speculation going the rounds 
 as to the partner he will honor. A little bird whispers 
 that a certain young lady of musical and literary talents 
 will be the lucky one, but who knows ? A woman chooses, 
 but man disposes. However ! " 
 
 22. On the twentieth of the month Little Sunbeam for- 
 warded to the Booster a considerable list of personal items 
 in " Ivanhoe Gleanings." 
 
 23. The leader was : 
 
 24. " Miss Bertine Biggerstaff has returned from the 
 CO. seat, where she went to do some shopping. Can it 
 be that the annual ball of the Volunteer Fire Brigade on 
 the night of November twenty-fourth had anything to do 
 with the trip ? A little bird has been whispering that some 
 delightful surprises will be revealed that night in the way 
 of modistes' creations. Time alone will tell. More 
 later." 
 
 25. Another personal read : 
 
 26. " Miss Lola Sparger, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Dink Sparger, returned home yesterday evening on the 
 Limited from the North. She has been attending a ladies'
 
 226 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 seminary for the past three years, with visits to the home 
 of her parents twice annually ; but owing to the health of 
 her mother, who has been poorly, she left before the close 
 of the term and will not return until after the Christmas 
 vacation. Her many friends are rejoiced to see her back 
 and looking so well." 
 
 27. We were only mildly interested at the moment in 
 Miss Lola Sparger; what we yearned to know was whom 
 Mr. Dupree Witherspoon honored for the grand march. 
 The suspense was terrible; Sam Bastedo broke under it 
 and got drunk. 
 
 28. In her subsequent account of this social function, 
 however. Little Sunbeam betrayed a noticeable lack of 
 enthusiasm, not to say lukewarmness. It was plain that, 
 so far as she was concerned, the Firemen's Ball had been 
 a dismal frost. She dismissed it with a few terse words ; 
 there was no glow to the write-up at all. She simply men- 
 tioned the fact of its having been held, with an unusually 
 large crowd of guests present, and the merriment had been 
 kept up until the wee sma' hours, and Miss Bertine Bigger- 
 staff had looked softly lovely in a dress of blue china silk, 
 trimmed with passementerie, and blue satin slippers to 
 match. 
 
 29. That was practically all Little Sunbeam contrib- 
 uted on the Firemen's Ball at Ivanhoe, except that, away 
 down in the tail end of " Gleanings," she did mention 
 Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of 
 Toney Avenue, as having led the grand march with Miss 
 Lola Sparger. 
 
 30. The advent of cold weather — or was it the Fire- 
 men's Ball ? — seemed to cast a shadow over Little Sun- 
 beam, for we did not hear from her until long after New
 
 Little Sunbeam 227 
 
 Year's, and then it was in an acrimonious vein, betraying 
 overwrought nerves and rebellion against Fate. Indeed, 
 had we permitted publication of her budget, it would have 
 laid us open to three counts of libel. 
 
 31. " It behooves us," remarked Sam Bastedo sagely, 
 as he thumbed the copy — " it behooves us to keep our eye 
 peeled on what this gal sends in. Cap. She's gettin' mean. 
 She ain't herself." 
 
 32. That was the way it struck me, too. One para- 
 graph in her " Ivanhoe Gleanings " ran about like this : 
 
 33. " It has been rumored of late that a certain hand- 
 some and debonair dispenser of hot drinks at a drug store 
 not a thousand miles from the town square is engaged to 
 be married to a young person now visiting her parents' 
 home from school. A great many people have repeated 
 this rumor, which may do much harm to innocent people. 
 We are in a position to state positively that it is not true, 
 and the report was started by the young lady ( ?) in the 
 case, who would doubtless give her eye-teeth to have it 
 true. But we are in a position to state positively that it 
 is wholly without foundation, and on no less authority 
 than the young ynan himself, who has vigorously denied 
 it. He is at a loss to account for the gossip, unless it be 
 that some casual attentions he has considered it polite to 
 show this young person have been misunderstood. Honi 
 soit qui mal y pense — honesty is the best policy." 
 
 34. This was too hot for the Booster. We absolutely 
 declined to get mixed up with the love affairs of the hand- 
 some and debonair dispenser of hot drinks, and junked 
 the item. But next week we took heart. There came an 
 announcement that cheered us amazingly;
 
 '228 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 35. " Miss Lola Sparger, who has been visiting at the 
 home of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dink Sparger, has re- 
 turned to school in the ISTorth after an extended stay in our 
 midst." 
 
 36. After that. Little Sunbeam appeared to gain a new 
 lease of life. She mingled with her kind again ; her 
 " Gleanings " were full of meat. We received such re- 
 vivifying news as the following: 
 
 37. " Ivanhoe is keeping pace with the march of 
 progress ! A dancing class has been organized in our 
 midst among some of the young people, the object being 
 to meet every Friday night in the hall above the Red 
 Front Drug Store to trip the light fantastic and revel in 
 the mazes of the newest and most refined steps. Miss 
 Bertine Biggerstaff, who has been taking a correspondence 
 course in the art that is the rage of New York and other 
 metropolises, has volunteered to instruct the members of 
 the club, which is to be known as the Sunbeam Circle. 
 A little bird whispers that several pleasing romances will 
 be culminated at these gatherings of the elite and bonton 
 of fair Ivanhoe." 
 
 38. Great undertakings very seldom run smoothly, 
 however, and the S. C. was no exception. It died a pre- 
 mature death within a fortnight. Grim religion put the 
 ban on its joyous activities — the parson lit on the Sun- 
 beam Circle like a thousand of brick. Here is the whole 
 sad tale: 
 
 39. " Reverend White preached last Sunday morning 
 on ' The Vices of Modern Society ; or. Is Ivanhoe a Whit 
 Better than Ancient Babylon ? ' It was a powerful and 
 forceful appeal, and was listened to raptly by a large and 
 thoughtful congregation. Reverend White pointed out
 
 Little Sunbeam 229 
 
 many parallels in the social life of Ivanhoe to that of the 
 wicked city of old, and warned the younger generation 
 to beware the pitfalls and snares that lie in wait for ven- 
 turesome feet. 
 
 40. " Of all the evils most to be dreaded, he said, that 
 of dancing was foremost. Often its insidious influence 
 leads to hideous and soul-revolting sin, said Reverend 
 White, and he cited many instances that had come under 
 his personal notice of young men and women who had gone 
 astray. And the one-step had been the first step down- 
 ward. It can truthfully be said, declared Reverend White, 
 that he who Hesitates is lost — doomed forevermore." 
 
 41. And in the very next letter our Ivanhoe corre- 
 spondent wrote : 
 
 42. " The dancing class recently inaugurated by the 
 Sunbeam Circle, composed of the most prominent young 
 people of Ivanhoe, has been discontinued. It has been 
 thought best not to hold any more dances, for a variety of 
 reasons. But the Circle is not dissolved. On suggestion 
 of our pastor, it retains its name and membership, but the 
 purpose of the organization will be altered. Henceforth 
 it will aid the pastor in the work of the church and Sab- 
 bath school, and as a first step has planned to hold an old- 
 fashioned social in the basement of the church on Friday 
 evening next, for the benefit of the Foreign Missionary 
 Society. Miss Bertine Biggerstaff has the program in 
 charge, and some rare treats are promised all those who 
 attend." 
 
 43. " It behooves us," said Sam Bastedo sagaciously — 
 " it behooves us to write to this here Miss Biggerstaff, 
 Cap. Why don't you ? It seems to me like she'd make a 
 fine correspondent herself. She's in everything."
 
 230 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 44. Shortly after the social, at which Miss Bertine 
 Bifrgcrstaff recited " Iler Sister's Beau," to the iinboiinded 
 delight of the hosts of children there assembled, and which 
 was presided over by Dr. Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, 
 who had a few well chosen words to introduce each num- 
 ber on the program — shortly after this event, which left 
 the Missionary Society with a deficit of only nine dollars 
 and thirty cents — almost immediately afterward came a 
 startling business announcement. It "was no less than ex- 
 tensive alterations to the Red Front Drug Store: 
 
 45. " Owing to an immense increase in the volume of 
 soft-drink business he anticipates during the coming sea- 
 son, the gentlemanly proprietor of the Red Front Drug 
 Store will tear out one window of his store and make it 
 wide open to the street. He will also install an extra foun- 
 tain of the most modern and lavish description, and will 
 enlist the services of a helper to Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, 
 son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, who 
 has been practically managing this end of the business for 
 some months. His numerous friends will rejoice to learn 
 that Mr. Witherspoon will not sever his connection with 
 the Red Front, as rumored about town last week, but is to 
 remain in charge and at a nice raise in salary." 
 
 46. iSTot a scrap of Ivanhoe gossip ever got past Little 
 Sunbeam ! 
 
 47. " Wedding bells are soon to ring in our midst. The 
 blissful contracting parties will be Miss x\nnielee Bassett, 
 daughter of Clint Bassett of the Gents' Furnishings Pal- 
 ace, and Jefferson Brim Hardin, the scholarly teacher of 
 grade four in the Crockett High School. Mr. Hardin has 
 long been known as one of the Beau Brummells of Ivan- 
 hoe, of whom there are two. The other — however!
 
 Little Sunbeam 231 
 
 48. " A little bird whispers that another romance is on 
 the tapis, as the French say. At any rate, it is rumored 
 that the attentions of a certain well known young man of 
 the CDmmunity to one of the most talented of Ivanhoe's 
 daughters have been marked of late and are growing seri- 
 ous. The wise ones mention their names knowingly. 'Tis 
 a consummation devoutly to be wished, as the Bard 
 says." 
 
 49. ISTothing more was heard from her for a month. 
 Then she put the tow^n on the map again with the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 50. " At five o'clock on the afternoon of March 31st, 
 fire broke out in the barn of Deacon Hoover, corner of 
 Main and Fannin streets. An alarm was immediately 
 telephoned in to Central by the colored help, but, owing 
 to a broken connection, she was unable to communicate 
 with the Fire Hall. A member of the Volunteer Fire 
 Brigade, however, happened to be in the vicinity, and 
 responded without hesitation, all alone. He was Mr. 
 Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon 
 of Toney Avenue. 
 
 51. " Rushing from his place of business, the Bed 
 Front Drug Store, he reached the residence of Deacon 
 Hoover long before anyone else got there, only to find the 
 barn in flames. He reports it was a terrible and majestic 
 sight. Hissing tongues of fire licked upward to a height 
 of thirty feet, sending sparks in all directions, and smoke 
 billowed in clouds. 
 
 52. " People gathered from blocks round, and an effort 
 was made by Mr. Witherspoon to attach the garden hose 
 to the hydrant in order to play the resultant stream upon
 
 232 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the conflagration — but all to no avail ! The hose leaked 
 and the water would not quite reach the blaze. 
 
 53. " Nothing daunted by a circumstance that might 
 well daunt the bravest heart, Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, 
 son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, in- 
 stantly secured some gunny-sacks from the back porch, 
 where they were kept for use as a door-mat, and soaked 
 them thoroughly. Then, armed with these, the intrepid 
 young man drew a deep breath and dashed straight into 
 the fiery furnace — or so it seemed to the anxious spectators 
 — and endeavored to beat out the fire. Even that was 
 fruitless. He was driven back by the flames and smoke, 
 and rendered half unconscious by the deadly fumes. 
 
 54. " And then the cry \vent up that Mrs. Hoover was 
 in the barn. The colored help was first to discover the 
 plight of her mistress, who had been thought, up to that 
 moment, to be down at the post-office. 
 
 55. " Just then we all heard distinctly the voice of 
 Mrs. Hoover crying pitifully from the hay-mow, whither 
 she had gone to pitch down some feed for the cow. 
 
 56. " ' Help! ' was what she said. ' Help ! I can't get 
 out. I'm locked in. Come to me, somebody ! ' 
 
 57. " A scene of indescribable confusion mingled with 
 horror unspeakable, ensued. A noble woman was about to 
 burn to death before their very eyes, and they were power- 
 less to succor her. A few of the ladies began to cry ; 
 others wrung their hands ; all shrieked for somebody to 
 do something. 
 
 58. '' But there was one who kept his head amid all 
 the turmoil. There was one whose courage and presence 
 of mind never faltered or deserted him. Mr. Dupree 
 Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney
 
 Little Sunbeam 233 
 
 Avenue, responded instantly to the summons. Oh, to be 
 a man, and fearless and strong! 
 
 59. " ' Follow me, men ! ' he shouted, speeding to the 
 lane back of the barn. 
 
 60. " But, alas, there were no men to follow him. 
 Scores were coming — were even running with swift feet 
 down Fannin and Main at that very moment — but they 
 had not yet arrived. Only ladies and boys were present, 
 and they were powerless to aid. 
 
 61. " All, that is, except Miss Bertine Biggerstaff, who 
 happened to be passing and stopped to ascertain what as- 
 sistance she could render, if any. She it was who helped 
 Mr. Witherspoon lift the heavy ladder he found by un- 
 erring instinct in the lane and carry it to the front of 
 the barn. There the well matched pair, working in per- 
 fect harmony and understanding, although not a word 
 passed between them, raised the ladder to the door of the 
 loft, and the courageous young man ascended. The 
 flames leaped and snapped in every direction, and smoke 
 enveloped him so that he was soon lost to sight; but he 
 did not hesitate. With Miss Biggerstaff holding the lad- 
 der firmly, proud of being able to assist in the achieve- 
 ment, he rapidly climbed to the loft and sprang into 
 the inferno. How they cheered! But the more thought- 
 ful were dumb with fright, for the danger was very 
 great. 
 
 62. " In a moment, however, out came the hero, sup- 
 porting the fainting form of Mrs. Hoover. He seemed 
 to be struggling with her. She was, in fact, protesting 
 against being rescued until the cow was also saved. It 
 was not until he assured her that the bovine was already 
 safe in the street and unharmed that she consented to
 
 234 Today's Short Stouies Analyzed 
 
 descend. Both made the journey without mishap, and 
 strong and willing arms were outstretched to receive them. 
 
 63. " By that time the Fire Brigade arrived with the 
 engine, but it was too late to do anything. The barn was 
 comjoletely destroyed, together with contents. Deacon 
 Hoover made the statement to your correspondent in an 
 exclusive interview that the loss would be five hundred 
 dollars and no insurance. 
 
 64. '' On all sides is heard praise of Mr. Witherspoon's 
 pluck and daring and reckless risk of life for another. 
 There is talk of recommending him for a Carnegie Hero 
 Medal, and a movement towards this end has already been 
 launched. A meeting will be held for the purpose tomorrow 
 night in the Fire Hall, at which Reverend White will 
 preside." 
 
 65. There must, however, have been some mean little 
 souls in Ivanhoe — there always are in every community. 
 Witness this item from the next batch of " Gleanings " : 
 
 66. " Truly the Bard said, ' Ingratitude stingeth like a 
 serpent's tooth.' There was an instance of it right in our 
 midst only yesterday that would not be believable if it 
 had not happened. 
 
 67. " At the meeting in the Fire Hall, called to discuss 
 ways and means of recommending Mr. Dupree Wither- 
 spoon for a Carnegie Medal and the financial emoluments 
 that go with it, which was presided over by Reverend 
 White, Deacon Hoover spoke. It was generally antici- 
 pated that he would take the lead in this praiseworthy 
 movement to fitly recognize the heroism of one of Ivan- 
 hoe's most popular young men. 
 
 68. " Imagine then the con^ernation aroused when he
 
 Little Sunbeam 235 
 
 got up and opposed the suggestion. The very man who 
 owed the safety of his precious wife — and what greater 
 blessing can be bestowed on any man than a faithful and 
 loving wife ? He actually opposed giving a medal to the 
 young hero who, alone and almost unaided, had saved 
 Mrs. Hoover's life. 
 
 69. " He pretended like he appreciated fully the ef- 
 forts Mr. Witherspoon had made, but begged to point out 
 that if Mr. Witherspoon had simply lifted the bar off the 
 back door, his wife could have walked out without any 
 trouble and the ladder would not have been practically 
 ruined." 
 
 70. Evidently the Deacon's objection carried weight. 
 It remained for the young hero to receive his reward in 
 another fashion : 
 
 Yl. " An announcement that caused a profound stir in 
 Ivanhoe was made today by the gentlemanly proprietor 
 of the Red Front Drug Store. It was to the effect that 
 Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Wither- 
 spoon of Toney Avenue, would be taken into partnership 
 with him on May 1st next under the firm name of Semple 
 & Witherspoon, Pharmaceutists. As everybody knows, 
 Mr. Witherspoon has been the capable and obliging dis- 
 penser of soft drinks at the Red Front for more than six 
 months. The Booster prophesies for the new firm all the 
 success possible." 
 
 72. Right on top of this bulletin came a personal item 
 that filled us with foreboding: 
 
 73. " Contrary to her usual custom. Miss Lola Sparger 
 has returned to Ivanhoe for the Easter vacation, and is 
 visiting her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dink Sparger." 
 
 74. And in the very next budget of " Gleanings " this :
 
 23G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 75. " Mr. D. Witherspoon entertained with a dance 
 at the pavilion in the ball park last night in honor of 
 Miss Lola Sparger, who is the guest of her parents for 
 the Easter vacation. Your correspondent has no news of 
 the event beyond hearsay, but it is rumored that the ice- 
 cream did not arrive in time to be eaten and the band 
 never showed up until eleven o'clock. Furthermore, a car 
 broke down on the way home and certain young people 
 were obliged to walk miles through the dust in their best 
 clothes. A little bird whispers that a certain young lady 
 (?) did not show the best of tempers in these trying cir- 
 cumstances. All is not gold that glitters ! " 
 
 76. Sam Bastedo, our printer, was sorely puzzled by 
 this item. He always insisted on accuracy and a definite 
 statement of the identity of persons mentioned in our 
 columns. 
 
 77. " Now, I wonder," he said irritably, scratching his 
 head — " I wonder if this Mr. D. Witherspoon is any kin 
 to Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney Avenue ? " 
 
 78. " I shouldn't be surprised," I replied. 
 
 79. " Then why the Sam Hill don't she say so in the 
 first place ? Little Sunbeam ain't been on her job right 
 lately. Cap. She don't seem to have her mind on her 
 business." 
 
 80. But a note of renewed hope was sounded in a let- 
 ter from Ivanhoe received about five days later: 
 
 81. " A flutter has been caused in Ivanhoe's most ex- 
 clusive social circles by the arrival of a young and hand- 
 some visitor from the North. Though he came without 
 warning, he has taken all hearts by storm and is a wel- 
 come guest in our best homes. He is Mr. R. Thornton
 
 Little Sunbeam 237 
 
 Terry, of Racine, Wis., and he is stopping at the Alex- 
 ander. Besides being blessed with good looks and a fund 
 of wit, Mr. Terry is said to be the possessor of much 
 worldly goods — to wit, a fortune, inherited from his 
 grandfather, who was a large land-owner in Virginia be- 
 fore the war. Report has it that he and Miss Lola Sparger 
 met at several fashionable dances while the latter was 
 visiting in the jSTorth last year, and that the young lady 
 was a house guest of Mr. Terry's family at their summer 
 home on the Lake. Welcome to our fair city, Mr. Terry. 
 The whole world loves a lover." 
 
 82. Little Sunbeam was less buoyant in a later com- 
 munication : 
 
 83. " Fearful and wonderful are the ways of men. 
 That which is close at hand seldom holds any value in 
 their eyes. Also, it is written that a man seldom wants a 
 thing badly which he can obtain at his will, but that in 
 proportion as other men desire the object too, so will he, 
 and strive accordingly." 
 
 84. The last paragraph was rather involved, and we 
 were at a loss to determine its application until the arrival 
 of her next budget : 
 
 85. " Friends of a certain well known young man of 
 the community feel like cautioning him discreetly against 
 the course he is pursuing in regard to a certain young 
 lady (?) now in our midst. She does not care for him 
 really, or she would not treat him the way she does, and 
 carry on another affair with another young man at the 
 same time. Not content with capturing the affections of 
 a dashing youth versed in the ways of the great cities, she 
 must also seek to ensnare an innocent and unsuspecting 
 young man of excellent heart but poor judgment — and
 
 238 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 perhaps ruin his happiness and that of others! Who 
 knows ? " 
 
 86. " What does she mean by that ? " demanded Sam 
 Bastedo. " That ain't news." 
 
 87. '' Oh, Lola Sparger is having some fun, that's all," 
 I told him. 
 
 88. Warm weather arrived, and Little Sunbeam re- 
 ported from her territory: 
 
 89. " The Ivanhoe team has been organized, and 
 games with Windy City have already been arranged. Mr, 
 Doc Kinsella will manage the team the same as last year, 
 and, in an exclusive interview with your correspondent, 
 stated that they would dish up an article of ball to which 
 the town could point with pride. 
 
 90. " Mr. Doc Kinsella, the capable manager of the 
 baseball team, has unanimously awarded the prize of two 
 dollars for the best name for his nine to Miss Bertine 
 Biggerstaff. The name she submitted is the Ivanhoe 
 Demons." 
 
 91. Miss BiggerstafP had named them better than she 
 knew. Their first game with Windy City was pulled off 
 the following Saturday, and this is what we found in our 
 mail on Monday morning. 
 
 92. " A disgraceful occurrence occurred here on Satur- 
 day afternoon that will leave a stain on the fair name of 
 Ivanhoe as long as Time endures. 
 
 93. " It was at the baseball game between the Demons 
 • — demons indeed, and fiends too — and the Windy City 
 Tigers. All Ivanhoe was there. 
 
 94. " The weather was warm and pleasant, and the 
 boys seemed to be on their mettle as they romped about in
 
 Little Sunbeam 239 
 
 the preliminary practice. In an exclusive interview, just 
 before the game started, Mr. Doc Kinsella told your cor- 
 respondent that he did not see how the Demons could 
 lose. 
 
 95. " Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Witherspoon of Toney Avenue, was agreed on as umpire, 
 and Deacon Hoover, our mayor, threw the first ball. The 
 game began at three o'clock, after the band had rendered 
 very acceptably ' Sailing Down Chesapeake Bay.' 
 
 96. " Mr. Witherspoon made the best umpire it has 
 ever been the privilege of impartial observers to see at 
 the local park, rendering his decisions in a clear, musical 
 voice. The Ivanhoe Demons scored runs as follows : One 
 in the first inning, three in the second, one in the third, 
 none in the fourth, four in the fifth, and three in the sixth 
 — total 12. 
 
 97. " The Windy City Tigers did not do so well at the 
 commencement, and failed to obtain any runs until the 
 sixth ; but during that inning the Demon pitcher grew 
 slightly nervous, and the visitors piled up thirteen runs 
 before Mr. Doc Kinsella decided that he was weakening 
 and took him out and put another one in. 
 
 98. " And now it was the fatal seventh. An electric 
 tension filled the air. At times you could hear a pin drop. 
 Anon they broke into tumultuous applause. 
 
 99. " At this juncture Mr. Hi Miller went to bat for 
 the Demons, with two men on bases. The vast throng 
 yelled to him to project it into space. Mr. Miller mois- 
 tened the palms of his hands, grasped the bat firmly, and 
 gave a tremendous blow to the first ball pitched at him. 
 It went whizzing like a bullet down the third-base line, 
 and Mr. Miller ran like a streak of lightning to first base,
 
 240 Today's Shout Stories Analyzkd 
 
 to second, to third, and then lionic, while the Windy 
 Tigers were furiously hunting the ball in the long grass. 
 
 100. " The thoughtless hundreds leaped to their feet 
 and cheered until the welkin rang; but Mr. Dupree With- 
 erspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. Witherspoon of Toney Ave- 
 nue, raised his right arm and stilled the tumult. 
 
 101. "' Foul !' he cried. 
 
 102. " And then pantomime broke loose. Despite the 
 universal esteem in which he has always been held, and 
 the respect which, one would think, his family's position 
 in the community ought to command, they turned against 
 Mr. Witherspoon. They hooted and jeered. Some rough- 
 necks from the Corners did not hesitate to cry, ' Kill 
 him ! Kill him ! ' and they started to descend from the 
 bleachers. 
 
 103. " Yet in this crisis the dauntless young umpire's 
 presence of mind did not forsake him. He ran rapidly to 
 the third-base line, glanced along it, and then announced 
 in clarion tones : ' Fair ball ! ' 
 
 104. " In this he was but showing his broad-mindedness 
 and following the dictates of his conscience ; but the 
 Windy City Tigers failed to take that into consideration. 
 They instantly gathered around him, running in from all 
 sides. Their captain and outfielders addressed him in the 
 most disgraceful terms. Finally, to appease them, he con- 
 sented to be led to the spot on which they claimed the ball 
 had landed. And there, sure enough, was the mark of the 
 spheroid, plainly discernible on a clump of new dirt out- 
 side the foul line. 
 
 105. " What was there for him to do after that ? He 
 did what any honorable man would have done. He did 
 his duty. Stepping to the front of the grand-stand, he
 
 Little Sunbeam 241 
 
 raised his arm majestically and said in a firm, ringing 
 voice: ' Foul ball,' 
 
 106. " Keliable citizens who were present have in- 
 formed your correspondent that the first bottle came from 
 the bleachers, where certain roughnecks from the Corners, 
 who are known to the officers, were congregated. How- 
 ever that may be, sundry missiles were hurled, and a per- 
 fect babel of sounds broke loose. Cushions, bottles, and 
 even vegetables, filled the air, and there was a rush towards 
 Mr. Witherspoon. 
 
 107. " In this crisis, what did he do ? Mr. Wither- 
 spoon folded his arms and, with a cold smile, waited for 
 the worst. I^ext moment they were all around him, shout- 
 ing and gesticulating. 
 
 108. " And now comes the most shameful feature of 
 the whole shameful business. In the front row of the 
 grand-stand sat a certain young lady (?) who has been 
 for some weeks his almost constant companion and con- 
 cerning whom and Mr. Witherspoon there have been many 
 exaggerated rumors. She had taken him to the game in 
 her father's automobile, but was sitting with his rival in 
 her affections, a certain young capitalist from the ISTorth. 
 
 109. " And guess what this young lady ( ?) did ! In- 
 stead of going boldly to his relief and taking her post by 
 his side, she covered her face with her hands and gave 
 way to unwomanly fears. 
 
 110. " Only for the prompt intervention of Miss Ber- 
 tine Biggerstaff, aided by Reverend White, who was also 
 present,' it is probable that Mr. Witherspoon would have 
 been seriously injured. She sprang up and advanced 
 from her seat without fear, and stood in front of him, con- 
 fronting the rabble who menaced his person.
 
 242 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 111. " ' You cowards! ' she cried. ' To strike an un- 
 armed man thus ! ' 
 
 112. " Some of the men began to cheer, but the more 
 heedless laughed, and another strong rush was made that 
 separated her from him. 
 
 113. " ' Get him away somehow,' Reverend White ad- 
 vised. ' We must get Dupree home or they will do him 
 an injury.' 
 
 114. " Seeing that resistance would be futile and all 
 expostulation vain in their excited state, Mr. Wither- 
 spoon wisely abandoned his efforts to appease the mob, 
 and turned about. Ever swift of foot, he reached the 
 gate a safe distance in the lead; then, turning there, he 
 defied them, one and all. 
 
 115. " ' I call the game,' he shouted with the full 
 power of his lungs. ' I call the game and award it to 
 Windy City.' 
 
 116. " Again they surged forward with a roar, and he 
 disappeared along the road leading to town, the frenzied 
 hoodlums in close pursuit. 
 
 117. " It was at this critical moment that Miss Ber- 
 tine Biggerstaff had another inspiration. The automobile 
 belonging to Mr. Dink Sparger, and which had been used 
 by Miss Lola Sparger to come to the game, was standing 
 outside the gate in charge of their colored yard-man. 
 
 118. " Leaping lightly into same, she imperiously com- 
 manded the negro to drive with all speed to the rescue. 
 At first he demurred, but she was not to be denied. By 
 promises of rich reward she succeeded in persuading him 
 to start the car. 
 
 119. " The magnificent machine leaped forward like a 
 thing alive, — there is no denying that automobiles are
 
 Little Sunbeam 243 
 
 very useful and have probably come to stay, — and they 
 overtook the mob at the corner of Main and Fannin streets, 
 where they had halted, at a loss. Their prey had disap- 
 peared as though the earth had swallowed him up, and 
 they were hunting in every direction. 
 
 120. " An intuition for which she is unable to account 
 prompted Miss Biggerstaff to walk quietly down the lane 
 in rear of Deacon Hoover's abode. And there on the 
 porch, behind the ice-box, was the well known form of 
 Mr. Witherspoon. Nobody was near to observe. She sig- 
 naled to him, and he joyfully permitted her to approach. 
 
 121. " It was decided that they should appeal to Mrs. 
 Hoover for sanctuary, inasmuch as he had once been in- 
 strumental in saving her life, and this was done. She 
 readily agreed to hide him until the crowd dispersed. 
 
 122. " The leaders of the perpetrators of this outrage 
 are known to many, and condign punishment will be meted 
 out to them." 
 
 123. This was hot stuff, but her next letter was equally 
 startling : 
 
 124. " Our peaceful community has been profoundly 
 agitated by discovery of a romance which came to light 
 accidentally. 
 
 125. " Miss Lola Sparger, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Dink Sparger, left town early Monday morning in the 
 family automobile and drove to Windy City. And there 
 she met — by previous arrangement, it is said — a certain 
 young man who had been visiting in our midst of late, 
 Mr. R. Thornton Terry. The couple repaired immedi- 
 ately to the residence of Reverend J. Schoonover, and at 
 the hour of twelve noon were united in the holy bonds of
 
 244: Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 matrimony. And so endoth an affair that has given rise 
 to more conjecture and talk than most anything previously 
 occurring in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. 
 
 126. " Mr. and Mrs. Terry left on the Limited later 
 for Denison, from where the bride telegraphed her father 
 what she had done, asking forgiveness and his blessing. 
 Mr. Sparger left at once in a hired automobile to be at her 
 side, and it is rumored that the young couple will return 
 shortly to Ivanhoe and take up their residence with the 
 bride's parents. 
 
 127. " But that is not all— far from it ! Mr. Terry 
 is not a capitalist. His grandfather never owned tracts 
 of land in Virginia before the war, and never even lived 
 in Virginia. In fact, nobody knows whether he ever had 
 a grandfather. He is really a book agent, and the reports 
 that he met Miss Sparger at fashionable dances in the 
 North are without foundation. Equally untrue are the 
 stories that she visited at his mother's summer home on 
 the Lake. She met him on the train during her last trip 
 home, and she had never even seen him before. 
 
 128. " But all's well that ends well. The Booster ex- 
 tends to Mr. and Mrs. Terry congratulations and best 
 wishes for a happy married life." 
 
 129. If we were flabbergasted by this news, judge of 
 our amazement and delight on receiving, a month later, 
 the following: 
 
 130. " For more than an hour the mighty multitude 
 sat in pensive silence, as if entranced by the rare and 
 redolent perfume of flowers, waiting for the hand of Time 
 to point his index finger to the appointed hour. Just at 
 8 : 30 every soul seemed to tingle with exquisite elation at 
 the first mesmeric tinkle of marriage bells and the rolling
 
 Little Sunbeam 245 
 
 of the wedding march in full diapason. Then the still- 
 ness that ached was suddenly broken by the appearance 
 of the attendants. 
 
 131. " Following at intervals, as the tick of the clock, 
 the entire bridal party strolled in, seventeen in number, 
 and took their places at the matrimonial altar to witness 
 the climacteric consummation of the divine compact. The 
 bride. Miss Bertine Lee BiggerstafF, daughter of the late 
 Boyce Biggerstaff and Mrs. Biggerstaff of Cedar Street, 
 entered on the arm of her uncle, Mr. W. J. Stier of Windy 
 City. She wore &n exquisite white satin dress trimmed 
 with seed pearls, a tulle veil and orange blossoms, and car- 
 ried a handsome bouquet of lily-of-the-valley. 
 
 132. " Lmnediately after the solemn ceremony, the 
 bridal party, together with relatives and friends, accom- 
 panied the bride and groom to the home of the bride's 
 mother, where they were doubly delighted by debonair 
 delicacies and gladsome congratulations. It seemed to the 
 guests that they were partaking of ambrosia and nectar. 
 Indeed, each participant might have exclaimed with Mil- 
 ton, the Blind Bard: 
 
 I scent the air 
 
 Of blessings when I come but near the house. 
 What delicious breath marriage sends forth ! 
 The violet beds no sweeter. 
 
 133. " The happy couple left on the midnight train for 
 Galveston and other Southern points, and after the honey- 
 moon will take up their residence in Ivanhoe." 
 
 134. Now, that was what Little Sunbeam sent — a full 
 and pleasing account of the wedding of Miss Bertine Big-
 
 246 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 gerstaff, but not so much as mention of the bridegroom's 
 name ! It cost us twenty-six cents for a telegram to ascer- 
 tain this information. Back came the answer: 
 
 135. " Mr. Dupree Witherspoon, son of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Witherspoon of Toney Avenue." 
 
 136. And I heaved a sigh of relief. Doubts of the hap- 
 piness of that couple were idle and foolish ; she would not 
 spoil Dupree ; already she had him tagged exactly where 
 he belonged. 
 
 137. But in came Sam Bastedo, trembling with the 
 triumph of a discovery. 
 
 138. " Cap," he said, holding Little Sunbeam's copy 
 in his hand, " I been thinking. And I sort of got the idea 
 that Little Sunbeam might be this here Miss Bertine Big- 
 gerstaff. Do you reckon she is ? " 
 
 139. " It wouldn't surprise me." 
 
 140. '' Then," declared Sam, " it behooves us to do 
 something for her. It behooves us to buy her a li'l' pres- 
 ent or something. What do you say ? I'll go in on it for 
 four bits." 
 
 141. " It sure do behoove," I replied. 
 
 142. And that was why we went out and bought a cut- 
 glass bonbon dish for Little Sunbeam and sent her three 
 years' subscription to the Booster gratis.
 
 THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " The Last Rose of Summer " is another of the 
 stories in which plot-impression is not the governing aim. 
 Hence the plot retires from prominence, constituting itself 
 the supporting framework only on which other impression- 
 elements are carried, and not attracting attention to itself. 
 Theme is the basis of the story, with character (largely 
 types) and atmosphere as its attendant elements. Con- 
 sequently, concentrative material forms a considerable 
 part of the narrative (S. S. M., 107:30-34). The plot 
 itself comprises merely the quiet, unsensational incidents 
 involved in Debby's delayed blossoming forth ; the con- 
 flict is merely that between the influence of her past and 
 the fate of dull spinsterhood to which it seemingly con- 
 demns her, opposed to the instincts, buoyancy, and strength 
 of her true nature as these develop and thrive under favor- 
 ing conditions ; and the outcome is her transformation into 
 an attractive and desirable woman. The essential inci- 
 dents of this plot are her finding, under the pressure of 
 necessity, an employment that gives her opportunity to de- 
 velop, and those of her responding to the stimulus of her 
 new circumstances ; and even these few we are made to 
 realize almost entirely through intensifying details intro- 
 duced to exemplify and emphasize them. Concentrative 
 material is therefore distinctly the dominant impression- 
 means throughout — a fact that accounts largely for the 
 atmosphere quality in the story. 
 
 247
 
 248 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 2. As the theme is one that asserts a contrast, the em- 
 phasis throughout the story is laid on contrast. Sym- 
 holically the anti-theme (S. S. M., G9 footnote) is pre- 
 sented in the song (par. 18) ; and the theme is definitely 
 thongh figuratively stated by Debby's heterodox comment 
 in par. 23. There is strong contrast between the women, 
 represented by Josie and Birdaline, who are midsummer 
 roses, and Debby's less frequent type, " blooming alone " 
 in splendor after the others are " faded and gone." There 
 is a minor but effective contrast between the girl Pamela, 
 just opening from the bud for her own midsummer 
 flourishing, and Debby's matured perfection. There is 
 contrast of Asaph and " Old Crawford " with ISTewt Mel- 
 drum, who is of their age but not of their agedness. There 
 is contrast between Debby as she was and Debby as she 
 became. And there can be felt even a contrast between 
 the small-town standards and life that, like a premature 
 and hurrying summer, bring human plants too early to an 
 ephemeral maturity, followed by too early a decline, and 
 those other standards which sanction and produce a less 
 unnatural and wasteful life-cycle. It will be noted that 
 intensifying material in considerable amounts is indis- 
 pensable in thus emphasizing contrasts. (Other examples 
 of the employment of contrast will be found in " The De- 
 fective," " The Great God," " The Opal Morning," " In 
 the Matter of Distance," " A Rag-Time Lady," " A Quiet 
 Life.") 
 
 3. The narrative is one of leisurely opening and of 
 leisurely progress. The theme is not presented until the 
 twenty-third paragraph, and even then is not at once rec- 
 ognized as the theme. The exciting moment and generat- 
 ing circumstances are not introduced until par. 74. This
 
 The Last Eose of Summee 249 
 
 leisurely movement is in agreement with the theme itself, 
 which is reflective and j)hilosophical, and with the de- 
 mands of the impression-materials employed, which call 
 for calm, unimpassioned presentation and a mood of quiet 
 appreciation. Comparison of this story with "Tropics" 
 and " That Hahnheimer Story " with reference to move- 
 ment will increase one's appreciation of the importance of 
 movement in creating the proper response to the narrative ; 
 " Tropics," for instance, could not possibly benefit from 
 a more leisurely presentation ; nor could " The Last Eose " 
 benefit from being told with a nervous, high-speed move- 
 ment. 
 
 4. " The Last Eose of Summer " is also a story in which 
 social characterization (S. S. M., 257) can be profitably 
 studied; cf. "The Opal Morning," "The Defective," 
 " In the Matter of Distance," " An Epilogue," " Little 
 Sunbeam," " A Eag-Time Lady," " The Great God," for 
 other instances. " Little Sunbeam " affords the most 
 obvious parallel, as both stories characterize or interpret 
 small-town life and viewpoints. Both accomplish the char- 
 acterization by presenting types ; but " The Last Eose " 
 goes somewhat further in accompanying the type-presenta- 
 tion W'ith individualized characterization. See S. S. M., 
 208:2-3; 217:4-5. 
 
 5. The organization of the plot is one of particular in- 
 terest, about which one can hold either of two theories — 
 that the actional rise of the story (once it is reached) fol- 
 lows in a general way the usual course of development 
 from exciting moment to conclusive outcome, or that this 
 actional part begins with the decisive moment and con- 
 sists of the falling action only. For more detailed con- 
 sideration, see the running notes, especially on pars. 77-97.
 
 250 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 6. The principle of distributed detail is followed ; iii- 
 tegi'ation of brief items of exposition and other illinnina- 
 tivo or motivatini^ detail with the running narrative is 
 exceedingly skillful. See the notes on the text. 
 
 7. Aside from its admirable simplicity, precision, sin- 
 cerity, and straightforwardness, the style also deserves 
 notice for the apt and vivid words used on occasion, and 
 for the propriety and descriptive force of some of its 
 comparisons, drawn from the life and environment with 
 which the story itself deals. 
 
 8. The story may be taken as a good and spontaneous 
 example of " realism." There are plenty of definitions of 
 this term, all alike in one respect : none of them satisfac- 
 torily covers all instances, agrees with the others, or is 
 quite clear in itself. As here employed, the term is meant 
 to indicate method rather than resultant quality — merely 
 the choice of representative details that belong to the char- 
 acteristically prevailing aspects of the particular phase of 
 life dealt with. (Sir Thomas Malory's method in the 
 Morte Darthur was realistic in this sense: he chose the 
 details that belonged to the usual, or everyday, aspects of 
 chivalry as he conceived chivalry to be.) It happens, how- 
 ever, that the phase of life dealt with by Captain Hughes 
 belongs to an ordinary level of very ordinary social states, 
 thus being " realistic " in that sense also.
 
 THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER 
 
 By Rupeet Hughes 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from 
 "The Metropolitan" for March, 1914 (Copyrighted 1914), and of 
 Harper Brothers (Copyrighted 1914). 
 
 1. As Mrs. Shillaber often said, the one good thing 
 about her old house was the fact that " you could throw 
 the dining-room into the poller " when you wanted to give 
 parties or funerals or weddings or such things. You had 
 only to fold up the accordion-pleated doors, push the sofa 
 back against the wall and lay a rug over the register. 
 
 2. Tonight she had " thrown the dining-room into the 
 poller " and filled both rooms with guests. There were so 
 many guests that they occupied every seat in the house, 
 including the upstairs chairs and a large batch of camp- 
 stools from Mr. Crankshaw's — the undertaker's. 
 
 1-8. Coneentrative material. It strikes the keynote of mood 
 and narrative tone (S. S. M., 124: 4-6; 127: 9-11) and of charac- 
 terization (type and social). (A review of S. S. M., 122-151, on 
 openings, will not be amiss.) Consider the names chosen for dif- 
 ferent persons with reference to their local-color and their 
 character-hinting effect; appreciation of their truthfulness m 
 local-color will result from studying a representative list of names 
 in almost any American community (tax-roll, town directory, 
 church roll, etc.). The amusing, sometimes grotesque, results of 
 romantic sentiment exercising itself in a matter-of-fact society 
 is seen in such combinations as Birdaline Duddy ; such combina- 
 tions turn up frequently enough everywhere to be typical of a 
 well-known sentimentality among commonplace though worthy 
 women of all classes, though it is found most among those of the 
 
 251
 
 252 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 3. In Carthage it was never a real party or an impor- 
 tant funeral unless those perilous old mantraps of Mr. 
 Cranksha^Y's appeared. They always added a dash of ex- 
 citement to the dullest evening, for at a critical moment 
 one of them could he depended upon to collapse heneath 
 some guest, depositing him or her in a small but compli- 
 cated wood-pile on the floor. 
 
 4. Less dramatic, but even droller, was the unfailing 
 spectacle of the solemn man who entered a room carrying 
 one of these stools, neatly folded, proceeded to a chosen 
 spot and there attempted vainly to open the thing. This 
 was sure to happen at least once and it gave an irresistibly 
 light touch even to the funerals. 
 
 5. Tonight at Mrs. Shillaber's the evening might be 
 said to be well under way; fat Mr. Geggat had already 
 splashed through his camp-stool and Deacon Peavey was 
 now at work on his ; a snicker had just sneezed out of the 
 minister's wife (of all people!) and the deacon himself 
 had breathed an expletive dangerously close to pro- 
 fanity. 
 
 6. The party was held in honor of Mrs. Shillaber's 
 girlhood friend, Birdaline Nickerson (now Mrs. Phineas 
 Buddy). Birdaline and Mrs. Shillaber (then Josie Bar- 
 low) had been fierce rivals for the love of Asaph Shillaber. 
 
 " lower middle " class — the class with which " The Last Rose " has 
 to do. (Some of Mr. Hughes's best work has been done in char- 
 acterizing persons and society of this class in the Western small 
 town.) — Note that the details employed to procure the desired 
 effects are not unusual and unfamiliar matters, but on the con- 
 trary, such things as everybody is familiar with. Their char- 
 acterizing and interpreting effect comes from the fact that the 
 author has vitalized them by making them the prominent details 
 in a portrayal that we immediately recognize as accurate. AH 
 successful realistic presentation employs this method.
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 253 
 
 Josie had got liim away from Birdaline and Birdaline bad 
 married Phin Duddy for spite. 
 
 7. Luck had smiled on Birdaline, and Phin had moved 
 away — to Peoria, no less ! And now they were back on a 
 visit to his folks. 
 
 8. Peoria had done wonders for Phin. Everybody said 
 that; and Birdaline also brought along a grown-up daugh- 
 ter, Pamela, who was evidently beautiful and, according 
 to her mother, a highly accomplished vocalist. 
 
 9. It seemed strange to Birdaline and Josie to meet 
 after all these years and be jealous not of each other, but 
 of daughters as big as they themselves had been the last 
 time they had seen each other. Each woman told the other 
 that she looked younger than ever, and each saw the pil- 
 lage of time in the opposite mien, the accretion of time in 
 the once so gracile figure. It was melancholy satisfaction 
 at best, for each knew all too well how her own mirror 
 slapped her in the face with her own image. 
 
 10. Of course Josie had to ask Birdaline's daughter to 
 
 9-27. In the first eight paragraplis, the setting has been pre- 
 pared for the immediate activity (S. S. M., 37: 4) and the atmos- 
 phere quality for the entire narrative conveyed. Pars. 9-27 now 
 leisurely increase our acquaintance with persons and episodes that 
 contribute local color or are involved in the unfolding of the 
 theme; works in the anti-theme through the episode of Pamela's 
 singing; and definitely introduces the central person, Debby — 
 incidentally and artfully putting into her mouth the figurative 
 statement of the theme itself which her coming experience is to 
 establish. Finally, it opens the way for the exposition (28-36) 
 of her past life and the indication of her present status — with 
 herself and in her home existence, and with the people of 
 Carthage (that is, the women, since it is largely the women who 
 legislate upon the status to be permitted other women in such 
 communities).
 
 254- Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 sing. And the girl, being of the new and rather startling 
 school of manners which accedes without undue urging, 
 blushinglj consented, provided there was any music there 
 that she could sing and someone would play her accom- 
 pa'ment. 
 
 11. A tattered copy of " The Last Rose of Summer " 
 was unearthed, and Mr. Norman Maugans, who played 
 the melodeon at the Presbyterian prayer meetings, was 
 mobbed into essaying the accomj)a'ment. He was no great 
 shucks at sight-reading, he said, but he would do his 
 durnedest. 
 
 12. The news that the pretty and novel Miss Duddy 
 would sing brought all the guests forward in a huddle like 
 cattle at home-coming time. Even Deacon Peavey gave 
 up his vow to open that camp-stool or die and sat down 
 in a draught to listen. The perspiration cooled on him 
 and he caught a terrible cold — but that was Mrs. Peavey's 
 business, not ours. 
 
 13. Miss Pamela Duddy sidled into the elbow of the 
 piano with a most attractive kittenishness and waited for 
 the prelude to be done. This required some time, since 
 the ancient sheet music had a distressing habit of folding 
 over and, as it were, swooning from the rack into the 
 pianist's arms. Besides, Mr. Maugans was so used to 
 playing the melodeon that instead of tapping the keys he 
 was continually squeezing them, and nothing came. And 
 when he wished to increase his volume of tone he would 
 hold his hands still and slowly open his knees against 
 swell-levers that were not there. This earnest futility 
 gave so much amusement to Josie's youngest daughter that 
 she had to be eyed out of the room by her mother. 
 
 14. Miss Pamela bent her pretty head and took from
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 255 
 
 her juvenile breast one big red rose and held it in her 
 hands while she sang. During the final stanza she plucked 
 away its j^etals one by one and at the end let the shredded 
 core fall ui^on the highly improbable roses woven in Josie's 
 American Wilton carpet. 
 
 15. The girl's features and her attitudes were sheer 
 Grecian ; her accent was the purest Peoria. Now and then 
 she remembered to insert an Italian " a," but she forgot 
 to suppress the Italian " r," which is exactly the same as 
 that of Illinois, but lacks its context or prestige. Her 
 fresh, uncultivated voice was less faithful to the key than 
 to her exquisite throat. To that same exquisite throat 
 clung one fascinated eje of Mr. Maugans, "svhose other orb 
 angrily glowered at the music as if to overawe it. Had he 
 possessed a third eye it might have guided his hands along 
 the keyboard with more accuracy; but this detail could 
 have affected the result but little, since his hands were in- 
 cessantly compelled to clutch the incessantly deciduous 
 music and slap it back on the rack. 
 
 16. Two stanzas had thus been punctuated before a 
 shy old maid named Deborah Larrabee ventured to rise 
 and stand at the piano, supporting the music. This com- 
 pelled her to a closer proximity to a nice young man than 
 she had known for so many years that she almost out- 
 blushed the young girl. 
 
 17. Deborah was afraid to look at anybody, yet when 
 she cast her eyes downward she had to watch those emo- 
 tional knees of Mr. Maugans slowly parting in the 
 crescendo that never came. 
 
 18. But the audience was friendly, and the composer 
 and the poet were too dead to gyrate in their distant 
 graves. The song therefore had unmitigated success and
 
 256 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the words were so familiar that everybody knew pretty 
 well what Pamela was driving at when she sang: 
 
 'Tis thuh lah-ha-ha strow zof sum-mah 
 Le-ef bloo-oo-hoo-minning uh-lone; 
 Aw lur lu-uli-uli vice come-pan-yun 
 Zah-har fay-ay-yay dud ahnd gawn-n-n-n. 
 No-woe flow-wurrr rof her kinnn-driid, 
 No-woe ro-hose buh dis ni-eye-eye-eye-eye-eye, 
 To re-fle-eh-ee' bah-ciirblu-shuzz 
 Aw-hor gi-yi-hiv su-high for su-high ! 
 
 There was hardly a dry eye or a protesting ear in the 
 throng as she reached the climax. 
 
 19. The girl's mother was not hard to find among the 
 applauding auditors. She looked like the wrecked last 
 September's rose of which her daughter was the next 
 June's bud. The softened mood of Birdaline and the tears 
 that bedewed her cheeks gave her back just enough of the 
 beauty she had had to emphasize how much she had 
 lost. 
 
 20. And Josie, her quondam rival in the garden, was 
 sweetened by melancholy, too. It was not hospitality 
 alone, nor mere generosity, but a passing sympathy that 
 warmed her tone as she squeezed Birdaline's arm and told 
 her how well her daughter had sung. 
 
 21. A number of matrons felt the same attar of regret 
 in the air. They had been beautiful in their days and in 
 their ways, and now they felt like the dismantled rose on 
 the floor. The common tragedy of beauty belated and 
 foredone saddened everybody in the room ; the old women 
 had experienced it ; the young women foresaw it ; the men
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 257 
 
 knew it as the destruction of the beauties they loved or 
 had loved. Everybody was sad but Deborah Larrabee. 
 
 22. That homely little spinster slipped impudently into 
 the elbow of the piano, into the place still warm from the 
 presence of Pamela, and she railed at the sorrow of her 
 schoolmates, Josie and Birdaline. Her voice was as sharp 
 as the old piano strings. 
 
 23. " That song's all wrong, seems to me, girls. Pretty 
 toon and nice words, but I can't make out why everybody 
 feels sorry for the last rose of summer. It's the luckiest 
 rose in the world. The rest of 'em have bloomed too soon 
 or just when all the other roses are blooming, or when 
 people are sort of tired of roses. But this one is saved up 
 till the last. And then when the garden is all dying out 
 and the bushes are just dead stalks and the other roses are 
 wilted and brown, and folks say ' I'd give anything for 
 the sight of a rose,' along comes this rose and — blooms 
 alone ! Seems to me it has the laugh on all the rest." 
 
 24. This heresy had the usual success of attacks on 
 sacred texts ; the orthodox paid no heed to the value of the 
 argument ; they simply resented its impudence. But all 
 they said to Deborah was an indulgent, " That's so, 
 Debby," and a polite, " I never thought of that." 
 
 25. As Deborah turned away triumphant to repeat 
 what she had just said to Mrs. Maugans, she overheard 
 Birdaline murmur to Josie in a kinship of contempt, 
 " Poor old Debby ! " 
 
 26. And Josie consented, " She can't understand ! She 
 never was a rose." 
 
 27. It was as if Birdaline and Josie had slipped a 
 knife under Deborah's left shoulder blade and pushed it 
 into her heart. She felt a mortal wound. She clung to
 
 258 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the piano and remembered something she had overheard 
 Josie say in exactly that tone far back in that primeval 
 epoch when Debby had been sixteen — as sweetless a six- 
 teen as a girl ever endured. 
 
 28. On that memorable night Birdaline had given a 
 party and Deborah had gone. No fellows had taken her; 
 but then Birdaline lived just across the street from 
 Deborah, and Debby could run right over unnoticed and 
 run home alone safely afterward. Debby was safe any- 
 where where it w^as not too dark to see her. Her face was 
 her chaperon. 
 
 29. Asaph Shillaber took Josie to Birdaline's party 
 that night, and he danced three times with Debby. Each 
 time — as she knew and pretended not to know — he had 
 come to her because of a mix-up in his program, or because 
 she was the only girl left without a partner. But a dance 
 was a dance, and Asaph was awful light on his feet, for 
 all he was so big. 
 
 30. After she had danced the third time with him he 
 led her hastily to a chair against the stairway — deposited 
 her like an umbrella and left her. She did not mind his 
 desertion, but sat panting with the breathlessness of the 
 dance and with the joy of having been in Asaph's arms. 
 Then she heard low voices on the stairway, voices back of 
 her, just above her head. She knew them perfectly. Josie 
 was attacking Asaph because he had danced three times 
 with Birdaline. 
 
 31. "But she's the hostess!" Asaph had retorted. 
 " Besides, I danced with Deb Larrabee three times, too. 
 Why don't you fuss about that ? " 
 
 32. Deborah perked an anxious ear to hear how Josie
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 259 
 
 would accept this rivalry, and Josie's answer fell into her 
 ear like poison. 
 
 33. " Deb Larrabee ! Humph. You can dance with 
 that old thing till the cows come home and I won't mind. 
 But you can't take me to a party and dance three times 
 with Birdaline Nickerson. You can't, and that's all. So 
 there ! " 
 
 34. Deborah did not linger to hear the result of the 
 war that was sure to be waged. There was no strength for 
 curiosity in her soul. She wanted to crawl off into a cel- 
 lar and cower in the rubbish like a sick cat. Josie's 
 opinion of her was a ferocious condemnation for any 
 woman-thing to hear. It was her epitaph. It damned 
 her, past, present, and future. She sneaked home without 
 telling anybody good-by. 
 
 35. That was long ago, and now after all these years 
 — ^years that had proved the truth of Josie's estimate of 
 her — even now Deborah must hear again the same relent- 
 less verdict as before. Time had not improved her, nor 
 brought her luck or lover, husband or child. 
 
 36. She had thought that she had grown used to her- 
 self and her charmless lot, but the wound began to bleed 
 afresh. She had the same impulse to take flight. But 
 her escape was checked by a little excitement. 
 
 37. There were evidences that refreshments were about 
 to be served. Chicken salad and ice-cream were not fre- 
 quent enough in Deborah's life to be overlooked. Dis- 
 paragement and derision were her everyday porridge. Ice- 
 cream was a party. So she lingered. 
 
 38. The Shillabers' hired girl in a clean apron and a 
 
 38. Attention is called to this paragraph merely because it rep- 
 resents a fragment of the details of characterizing, portraying,
 
 260 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 coiniilete armor of blushes appeared at the dining-room 
 door and beckoned. Josic sinnnioncd her more than will- 
 ing children to pass the plates. She nodded to Asaph to 
 come and roll the ice-cream freezer into place and scrape 
 off the salty ice. Then she waylaid him in the kitchen 
 and assailed him for paying too much attention to Birda- 
 line. lie did not realize what a luxurious return to youth 
 it was for his wife to resume a girlhood quarrel. It made 
 him mad and he fought back. Their wrangle reached the 
 speedily overcrowded dining-room in little tantalizing 
 slices as the swinging door opened to admit or emit one 
 of the children. But it swung shut at once. It was 
 like an exciting serial with most of the installments 
 omitted, 
 
 39. In the cheerful stampede for the dining-room 
 Debby had crowded into a sofa alongside another re-visitor 
 to the town, Newton Meldrum, whom she had known but 
 slightly. He had gone with the older girls and had al- 
 ready left Carthage when Debby came out — as far as she 
 had ever come out before she went back. 
 
 40. Xewt Meldrum had prospered, according to Car- 
 thage standards. He w-as now the " credit man " for a 
 New York wholesale house. Debby had not the faintest 
 idea what a credit man was. But Asaph knew all too 
 
 and tone-giving effect ; see S. S. M., 80 : 4-8 ; 165 : 22-23. It will be 
 observed that the detail through which the various contributory 
 impressions made by this story are created, is integrated into one 
 unified whole largely by the method of distribution (S. S. M., 
 80:4-7). In the earlier stages of the nai-rative especially is this 
 true. The student should pick out all the important instances to 
 be found in the story. 
 
 39-40. Introduces the person of second imi^ortance, and inci- 
 dentally affords further exemplification of the uses of distributed 
 exposition and detail. See also S. S, M., 165 : 21,
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 2G1 
 
 well. As the owner of the largest department store in 
 Carthage, Asaph owed the New York house more money 
 than he could pay. He gave that as a reason for owing it 
 still more. The New York house sent Meldrum out 
 to Carthage to see whether it would be more profit- 
 able to close Asaph up or to tide him over another 
 season. 
 
 41. Josie had chosen this anxious moment to give a 
 party to Birdaline ! 
 
 42. Asaph had to invite Meldrum. Josie had prom- 
 ised that she would show how much a wife can help her 
 husband ; she promised to lavish on Meldrum especial con- 
 sideration and to introduce him to some pretty girls — he 
 was a notorious bachelor. 
 
 43. Then she forgot him at once for her ancient rivalry 
 with Birdaline. And Asaph also forgot him in the ex- 
 citement of quarrel. 
 
 44. Indeed, host and hostess ignored their fatal guest 
 so completely that they left him to eat his supper along- 
 side the least considered woman in town — poor old 
 " Dubby Debby." Debby had long ago fallen out of the 
 practise of expecting attention from anybody. Tonight 
 she sat pondering her own shame and trying to extract 
 some ice-cream from between the spots of salt. A few 
 
 41. Character hint (S. S. M., 257) ; see also characterizing facts 
 told in 42-43. 
 
 44. Establishes the connection between the present situation 
 and the situation ended by the introduction of the passages of dis- 
 tributed detail in pars. 38-40. The connection is made as com- 
 plete as if there had been no break. Other instances of skillfully 
 maintained coherence and resumption of the main narrative 
 thread will be found in the story. Find and study them; the 
 method is useful and sound.
 
 202 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 big tears had Avclled to her eyelids and dropped into her 
 dish. She blamed herself for the salt. Then she heard 
 her neighbor grnuible : 
 
 45. " Say, Debb}^, is your ice-cream all salty ? " 
 
 46. " Ye-es, it is," she murmured, fluttering. 
 
 47. " So's mine. Funny thing, there's always salt in 
 the ice-cream. Ever notice it ? " 
 
 48. " Tha — that's so, there usually is — a little." 
 
 49. "A lot! That's life, I guess. Poor old Asaph! 
 Plenty of salt in his ice-cream, eh? What's the matter 
 with that wife of his, anyway? Aren't they happy to- 
 gether ? " 
 
 50. " Oh, I guess they're as happy as married folks 
 ever are," Debby answered absently, and then gasped at 
 the horrible philosophy she had uttered. 
 
 51. Meldrum threw her a glance and laughed. 
 
 52. Debby winced. He probably was saying to him- 
 self, " Sour grapes ! " At least she thought he Avould 
 
 45-55. Note the ease, naturalness, and fitness of the dialogue. 
 Mr. Hughes is skillful in this introduction of passages of dialogue 
 into his narratives; almost any of his stories and novels will 
 afford examples (on the functions and management of dialogue, 
 see S. S. M., 229-249). The dialogue he writes is well adapted 
 to the persons and situation, too, and can be studied for hints as 
 to management of speech in these respects. 
 
 49. See Newt's preparatory remark in 47. Then find other de- 
 tails indicating that he is of a philosophical turn of mind. Has 
 his occupation, requiring study and judgment of men and motives, 
 had anything to do with developing this attitude of mind in 
 him? Is the speech therefore fitted to the person (S. S. M., 
 235: 11-12) ? Is it also fitted to the present situation — Newt back 
 among the acquaintances of his youth, and naturally making com- 
 parisons and thinking over the facts his observations disclose? 
 
 52. A reminder of Debby's self-accepted status and her state 
 qf mind (exposition in pars. 28-36).
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 263 
 
 think that. But he proved his innocence by his next 
 words : 
 
 53. " You married, Debby ? " 
 
 54. " N-no," she faltered, without daring even to ven- 
 ture a " not yet." He surprised her shame with a laugh- 
 ing compliment : 
 
 55. " Wise lady ! Is^either am I. Shake ! " 
 
 56. Then she turned on the sofa so that she could see 
 him better. His eyes were twinkling. He was handsome, 
 citified, sleek, comfortable. Yet he had never married ! 
 
 57. He was holding out his hand. And because it 
 commanded hers, she put hers in it, and he squeezed her 
 long, fishy fin in a big, warm, comfortable palm. And 
 she gave her timid, smiling eyes into his big, smiling stare 
 and wondered why she smiled. But she liked it so much 
 that fresh tears rushed to her eyelids, little eager, happy 
 tears that could not have had much salt in them, for one 
 or two of them bounced into her ice-cream. Yet it did 
 not taste bitter now. 
 
 58. Asaph came in then and looked around the room 
 with defiant eyes that dared anybody to be uncomfortable. 
 He recognized Meldrum with a start and realized that the 
 most important guest had been left to Deb Larrabee of all 
 people. This misstep might mean ruin to him. He made 
 haste to carry Meldrum away, and present him to Pamela. 
 
 59. Deborah, abandoned on the sofa, studied Pamela 
 with wonder. How beautiful the child was ! How she 
 
 57. Character and mood hints. 
 
 58-61. Psychological detail (direct statement), emphasizing 
 part of the basic contrast involved by the theme (introd. n. 2). 
 Observe again the skill with which the narrative drops and re- 
 sumes its account of the things done, thus managing the inter- 
 polation and integration of concentrative detail; see par. 44, n.
 
 2 04 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 drew the nicii ! How their eyes fed upon her! IIow she 
 queened it in her littk' court. Everywhere she went it 
 must be so. In Peoria they must have gathered about her 
 just as here. They must be missing her in Peoria now. 
 When she w^ent back they would be glad. 
 
 GO. The contrast between Pamela and herself was so 
 cruel that Deborah's heart revolted. She demanded of 
 heaven : " Why so much to her and none to me ? My 
 mother was as good as her mother, and better looking in 
 her day; and my father was a handsome man. Why was 
 I made at all, if not well made ? Why allowed to live if 
 not fit for life ? My elder sister that died was more beau- 
 tiful than Pamela, but she died. Why couldn't I have 
 died in her place, or taken the beauty she laid aside as I 
 wore her cast-off clothes ? Yet I live and I shall never 
 be married, shall never be a mother, shall never be of any 
 use or any beauty. Why ? Why ? " 
 
 61. Bitter, bitter, w^ere her thoughts as she sat with her 
 plate in her lap. She hardly noticed when Josie took the 
 plate away. She could not bear to remain. She tiptoed 
 from the dining-room unheeded and went out at the side 
 door, drawing her shawl over her head. She must sneak 
 home alone as usual. Thank heaven it was only a block 
 and the streets were black. 
 
 62. As she reached the front gate she met a man w^ho 
 had just come down the walk. It was Meldrum. He 
 peered at her in the dim light of the street lamp and called 
 out: 
 
 63. " That you, Debby ? Couldn't you stand it any 
 longer ? Xeither could I. That girl is a peach to look at, 
 but she can't sing for sour apples ; and as for brains — 
 she's a nut, a pure pecan ! I guess I'm too old or not old
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 265 
 
 enough to be satisfied with staring at a pretty hide on a 
 pretty frame. Which way you going? I'll walk along 
 with you, if you don't mind." 
 
 64. If she didn't mind! Would Lazarus object if 
 Dives sat on the floor beside him and brought along his 
 trencher ? 
 
 65. Debby was so bewildered that the sidewalk reeled 
 beneath her intoxicated feet. She stumbled till Meldrum 
 took her hand into his arm ; then she trotted alongside, as 
 meek as Tobias with the angel. 
 
 66. All, all too soon they reached her house. But he 
 paused at the gate. She dared not invite him even to the 
 porch. If her mother heard a man's voice there she would 
 probably open the window upstairs and shriek " Murder ! 
 Thieves ! Help ! " So Debby waited at the gate wdiile the 
 almost invisible Meldrum chattered on. He was in a 
 mood for talk. The paralyzed Debby was a perfect listener, 
 and in that intense dark she was as beautiful as Cleopatra 
 would have been. 
 
 67. To her he was solely a voice, a voice of strange 
 cynicisms, yet of strange comfort to her. He was laugh- 
 ing at the people she held in awe. " This town's a joke 
 to me," he said. " It's- a side-show full of freaks." And 
 he mocked the great folk of the village as if they were 
 yokels. He laughed at their customs. He ridiculed many, 
 many things that Debby had believed and suffered from 
 believing. He ridiculed married people and marriage 
 from the superior heights of one who could have married 
 
 67-71. Note the way in which psychological detail (state of 
 mind) is presented. When direct psychological analysis is neces- 
 sary, it can be employed without hesitation if introduced in brief 
 and distributed passages. See S. S. M., 50 : 15 ; 228 : 15.
 
 266 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 many and bad rejected all. It was strangely pleasant 
 Leaving to her who had observed marriage from tbe bum- 
 ble deptlis of one wbom all bad rejected. 
 
 OS. He talked till be beard tbe town clock wbine eleven 
 times, tben be said : *' Good Lord ! I didn't know it was 
 so late. I don't get tbese moods often. It takes a migbty 
 good listener to loosen me up. Good-nigbt ! Don't let 
 any of tbese fellows bunco you into marrying 'em. Tbere's 
 notbing in it, Deblw. Take it from me. Good-nigbt ! " 
 
 69. Sbe felt ratber tban saw tbat be lifted bis bat. 
 Sbe felt again bis big band enveloping bers and sbe 
 answered its squeeze witb a desperate little clencb of ber 
 own. 
 
 TO. He left ber wonderfully uplifted. Now sbe felt 
 less an exile from marriage tban a rebel. Sbe almost con- 
 vinced berself tbat sbe bad kept out of matrimony because 
 sbe was too good for it. Tbe solitary cell of ber bed was 
 a queenly dais wben sbe crept into it, and sbe dreamed 
 tbat General Kitcbener asked for ber band and sbe re- 
 fused it. 
 
 71. Meldrum's cynicisms bad been strangely opportune 
 to tbe despondent old maid. He unwittingly belped ber 
 over a deep ditcb and got ber past a bad nigbt. 
 
 72. But wben sbe woke, tbe next morning was but tbe 
 resumption of tbe same old day. Poverty, loneliness and 
 tbe inanity of a manless bousebold were again ber por- 
 tion. Tbe face sbe wasbed explained to her wby sbe was 
 not sougbt after by tbe men. 
 
 73. Sbe found ber raotber filled witb rbeumatism and 
 bad news. A letter bad come tbe day before and sbe bad 
 concealed it from Deborab so tbat tbe child might have a
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 267 
 
 nice time at the party, and did she have a nice time and 
 who was there ? But that could wait, for never was there 
 such news as she had now, and there was never any let-up 
 in bad luck, and them with no man to lean on or turn to. 
 
 74. When Deborah finally pried the letter from the 
 poor old talons she learned that the A. G. and St. P. Ry. 
 would pass its dividend this year. 
 
 75. Deborah's father had said that his deathbed was 
 cheered by the fact that he had left his widow and his 
 child several shares of that soulful corporation's stock. 
 He called it the " Angel Gabriel and St. Peter Railway." 
 But the few hundred dollars that had come to them like 
 semi-annual manna and quails would not drop down this 
 year ; perhaps not next year, or ever again. 
 
 76. In her dismay Debby had an impulse to consult 
 ISTewt Meldrum. She hurried to Shillaber's Bazaar, hop- 
 ing he might be there. Asaph met her himself and told 
 her that Kewt had gone back to New York an hour before. 
 Debby broke down and told Asaph of her plight. She sup- 
 posed that she would have to go to work at once some- 
 where. But what could she do ? 
 
 77. Asaph was feeling amiable ; he had won a reprieve 
 from Meldrum and had made it up with his wife in pri- 
 
 74. By this time we know a good deal about Debby, the friends 
 she has (or hasn't), the kind of people they are and the manner 
 of existence they lead. But not a thing has happened up to this 
 point to produce or even hint at a change in the status quo 
 (S. S. M., 85 : 1-4; 5-9 may also be included; 92 : 1-7). The incit- 
 ing impulse comes in this long-postponed paragraph. 
 
 77-97. In these paragraphs are found the descriptive passages 
 that are, in effect, important developing incidents of the plot 
 (S. S. M., 108 : 32-36) ; the action is not narrated so much as it is
 
 268 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 vate for the i)ublic quarrel. His heart melted at the 
 thought of helping poor old Dubby Debby, whom every- 
 body was fond of in a hatefully unflattering way. He 
 had helped other gentlewomen in distress, and now he 
 dumfounded Debby by saying: 
 
 78. " Why don't you clerk here, Debby ? " 
 
 79. " Why, I couldn't clerk in a store ! " she gasped, 
 terrified. " I don't know the least thing about it." 
 
 80. " You'd soon learn the stock, and the prices are all 
 marked in plain letters that you can memorize easy. 
 You've got a lot of friends and we give a commission on 
 all the sales over a certain amount. Better try it." 
 
 81. Debby felt now, for the first time, all the sweet 
 panic that most women undergo with their first proposal. 
 This offer of the job of saleswoman was as near as Debby 
 
 made clear to us by recounting its effects ("cause indicated by 
 effect "). Note that in our plot we have a " conflict " that we can 
 describe (adopting a slang analogy) as "reverse conflict"; i.e., 
 the inhibiting opposition of circumstances is removed and Debby 
 develops under favoring conditions. The part of her struggle that 
 had tragic elements is in her past, and the only uncei'tainty is that 
 doubt which naturally suggests itself, whether such a transforma- 
 ton against the nullifying influence of a lifetime of repression 
 and disappointment, is possible. This development could be 
 treated in a way to make the conflict that actually exists, the 
 opposition of these contrary influences, seem highly doubtful of 
 outcome. But although Debby undoubtedly still had times of 
 trial and failure, this particular story does not call for, nor would 
 it benefit from, the detailed and dramatic development of these 
 incidents of struggle, or effort-against-opposition ; hence em- 
 phasis is not put on the struggle, but on the consequences follow- 
 ing the struggle (akin to consequential exposition; S. S. M., 
 171:4). For the simple reason that unhampered progress of 
 events continuously in the same direction, consequent upon the 
 removal of all inhibitions, is lacking in suspense, we seldom find 
 a plot so organized as to involve this. Yet (as this story proves)
 
 The Last Kose of Summer 269 
 
 had come to being offered the job of helpmeet. She even 
 murmured, " This is so sudden," and " I'll have to ask 
 mamma." When Mrs. Larrabee heard the news she 
 apologized to heaven for doubting its watchfulness, com- 
 mended Asaph Shillaber to its attention, and bespoke for 
 him a special invoice of blessings. 
 
 82. And now the long drought in Debby's good luck 
 seemed to be ending. The skies over her gi-ew dark with 
 the abundance of merciful rain. A gentle drizzle seemed 
 to her parched soul to be a cloudburst, a deluge after a 
 drought. 
 
 83. A few days later found Debby installed in the 
 
 such organization is legitimate and, under proper conditions, 
 effective. 
 
 We should point out, however, that quite a different theory 
 may apply to the present plot — that the period of struggle in 
 Debby's career is already past, and needs to be shown to us 
 only in motivating exposition (see especially pars. 28-36) ; that 
 par. 74 introduces, not the inciting moment, but the decisive 
 momient; and that what we have described above as development 
 (rising action) is in truth an unusually long and significant fall- 
 ing action, through which the outcome is gradually revealed in 
 full, and at the end of which comes a final incident of the out- 
 come, Debby's engagement (from this point of view) not con- 
 stituting the conclusive outcome, but merely its concluding 
 episode. Such an organization of the plot would be even more 
 rare than the alternative form previously commented on; but 
 it is quite as legitimate, too, since the conte exists to create 
 a certain unified impression and any management of materials 
 that accomplishes this justifies itself (S. S.M., 19:1-3; 158: 
 11-12). The present editor almost inclines to the view that Mr. 
 Hughes has in fact taken up Debby's history at its decisive mo- 
 ment, and built his story, with its unified impression, around the 
 events of what would be (in a conventionally organized story) 
 the falling action and outcome. If he has not done this, he has 
 at least revealed the possibility of such an adaptation of the 
 technique of plot organization.
 
 270 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 washable silks. The change in her environment was com- 
 plete. Instead of dozing through a nightmare of inepti- 
 tude in the doleful society of her old mother in a dismal 
 home where almost nobody ever called, and never a man; 
 now she stood all day on the edge of a stream of people ; 
 she gossiped breezily all day with women in search of 
 beautiful fabrics. She handled beautiful fabrics. Her 
 conversation was a procession of adjectives of praise. 
 
 84. Trying to live up to her surroundings, she took 
 thought of her appearance. Dealing in fashions, with 
 fashion plates as her scriptures, she tried to get in touch 
 with the contemporary styles. She bounded across eight 
 or ten periods at one leap. First, she found that she could 
 at least put up her hair as other women did. The revolu- 
 tion in her appearance was amazing. Xext she retrimmed 
 her old hat, and reshaped her old skirt, drew it so tightly 
 about her ankles that she was forced to the tremendous 
 deed of slitting it up a few inches so that she could at 
 least walk slowly. The first time her mother noticed it 
 she said : 
 
 85. " Why, Debby, what on earth ! — that skirt of 
 yours is all tore up the side." 
 
 86. Debby explained it to her with the delicious con- 
 fusion of a Magdalen confessing her entry upon a career 
 of profligacy. Her mother almost fainted. Debby had 
 gone wrong at this late day! Mrs. Larrabee had heard 
 that department stores were awful places for a girl. The 
 papers had been full of minimum wages and things. 
 
 87. Stranger yet — Debby began to attitudinize, to 
 learn the comfort of poses. She must be forever holding 
 pretty things forward. She took care of her hands, pol- 
 ished her nails. I^ow and then she must drape a piece
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 271 
 
 of silk across her shoulder and dispose her rigid frame into 
 curves. She began to talk of " lines " — to cold cream her 
 complexion. 
 
 88. The mental change in her was no less thorough. 
 Activity was a tonic. Her patience was compelled to 
 school itself. Prosperity lay in unfaltering courtesy, un- 
 tarnished cheer. Cynicism did not sell goods. All day 
 long she was praising things. Enthusiasm became her 
 instinct. 
 
 89. Few men swam into her ken, but in learning to 
 satisfy the exactions of women, she attained the more dif- 
 ficult tact. She had long since omitted malekind from 
 her life and her plan of life. She was content. Women 
 liked her, women lingered to talk with her ; they asked her 
 help in their vital struggle for beauty. It was enough. 
 
 90. One morning as she was making ready to go to 
 the store, and taking much time at the process, she ob- 
 served at her forehead a white hair. It startled her; 
 frightened her for a moment ; then she laughed. 
 
 91. " Why, I'm growing old ! " 
 
 92. What use had she for youth ? It had never been 
 kind to her. All the loss of it meant was that it might 
 harm her a little at the store. She plucked out the white 
 thread and forgot about it — nearly. 
 
 93. Another day there was another white hair. She 
 removed that, too. Then came another, and others, swiftly, 
 till she was afraid to take any more away. 
 
 94. At last there was a whole gray lock. She tucked 
 
 90-98. Retarded movement. The time chosen marks the end of 
 a significant period in her development, and the retardation thus 
 emphasizes the passage of time. — Note another instance of con- 
 trast in the portrayal of Debby as she now is, opposed to what 
 she once was (pars. 28-36).
 
 272 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 it ill and pinned it beneath the nondescript mass of her 
 coiffure. It would have terrified her more if she had not 
 been so busy. Fatigue was her one distress now, but it 
 strengthened her, sweetened her sleep, kept dreams away. 
 The old stupidity of her life had given way to an eternal 
 hurry. 
 
 95. And now the white hairs were hurrying, too, like 
 the snowflakes that suddenly fill the air. But with this 
 snow came the quickening of pulse and glistening of eyes, 
 the reddening of cheeks that the snow brings. 
 
 96. The white fell about her hair as if she stood bare- 
 headed in a snowstorm. There was a kind of benediction 
 in it. It softened something about her face, as the snow 
 softens old rubbish heaps and dreary yards and bleak 
 patches. 
 
 97. People began to say, " How well you look, 
 Debby ! " They began to dignify her as " Deborah " or 
 " Miss Larrabee." Her old contemners came to her 
 counter with a new meekness. Age was making it harder 
 and harder for them to keep to the pace. Bright colors 
 did not become them any longer. Their petals were fall- 
 ing from them ; the velvet was losing its nap, rustling, sag- 
 ging, wearing through. The years, like moths, were 
 gnawing, gnawing. 
 
 98. One day a sad, heavy figure dragged along Deb- 
 orah's aisle and sank upon the mushroom stool in front of 
 her. Deborah could hardly believe that it was Josie Shil- 
 laber. She could hardly force back the shock that leaped 
 to her expression. From the thin white lips, crumpled 
 with pain, came a voice like a rustling of dead leaves in a 
 
 98-109. Concentrative material — incident, mood, character. 
 Note the character hints (Debby) in pars. 100, 104, and 105.
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 273 
 
 November gust. And the voice said with a kind of envy 
 in it: 
 
 99. " Why, Deborah, how well you look ! " 
 
 100. " Oh, I am well ! " Deborah chanted, then re- 
 pressed her cheer unconsciously. It was not tactful to be 
 too well. " That is, I'm tol'able. And how are you this 
 awful weather ? " 
 
 101. " Not well, Debby. I'm not a bit well; no, I'm 
 never well any more. Why, your hair is getting quite 
 white, isn't it, dear ? But it's real becoming to you. 
 Mine is all gray, too, you see, but it's awful ! " 
 
 102. " Indeed it's not. It's fine ! Your children must 
 love it, don't they ? " 
 
 103. " Oh, the children ! " Josie wailed. " What do 
 they think of me ? It's awful, getting old, isn't it, Debby ? 
 It don't seem to worry you, though. I suppose it's be- 
 cause you haven't had sorrow in your life as I have. I'm 
 looking for something to wear, Debby. The styles aren't 
 what they used to be. What are people coming to? I 
 can't find a thing to wear. W^hat would you suggest ? Do 
 help me ! " 
 
 104. Deborah emptied the shelves upon the counter, 
 sent to the stock-room for new shipments that had not been 
 listed yet, ransacked the place; but there was nothing 
 there for the woman whose husband owned it all. 
 
 105. Deborah's hand went to her heart, where there 
 was an ache of pity for one w^ho had never pitied her. It 
 was Deborah now that was almost girlish in form ; she 
 was only now filling out, taking flesh upon her bones and 
 grace into her members. 
 
 106. A few weeks later Deborah went again to the Shil- 
 laber home, sat again on the sofa in the dining-room. The
 
 274 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 children bad all come home. Josie was in the parlor, al 
 most hidden in flowers. She did not rise to receive her 
 guests. They all filed by and looked at her and shook 
 their beads. She did not answer, even with a nod. 
 
 107. Birdaline wept over her, looking older and terri- 
 fied, but pretty. 
 
 108. Mr. Crankshaw, the undertaker, w^as there offi- 
 cially, and so were bis camp-stools. One of them had col- 
 lapsed, and the bass of the choir had been unable to open 
 his. Some of the young people giggled as always at a 
 funeral. But even for them the laughter was but the auto- 
 matic whir of a released spring, and there was no mirth 
 in the air. 
 
 109. Time had sung away the rose that had been Josie. 
 Deborah had heard the rose cry out in its agony of dis- 
 solution, and now it was fallen from the bush, scentless 
 and dead. 
 
 110. The store was closed for the day and Deborah 
 went home, thanking God that He had not put upon her 
 body the mortgage of beauty, whose foreclosure was such 
 ruin. 
 
 111. The next morning the Bazaar was open at the 
 regular hour. Shoppers came as numerously as before. 
 People were as eager as ever to enhance their charms or 
 disguise their flaws. In a few days Asaph Shillaber was 
 back in his office, with mourning in his manner and his 
 garb. A month later his cravat was no longer black. 
 
 111-112. Coneentrative and eharaeter-hinting matter — the mid- 
 summer rose Josie forgotten and her life as if it had not been 
 and Asaph, left free, " perking up " and gathering more youthful 
 blossoms about him. All this of course motivates itself directly 
 upon human nature.
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 275 
 
 112. In a few months younger girls were behind many 
 of the counters. Deborah felt that youth was invading 
 and replacing. She wondered how soon her turn would 
 come. It would be a sad day, for she loved the 
 work. 
 
 113. But she took some reassurance from the praises 
 of Asaph. He paused now and then to compliment her 
 on a sale or her progress. He led up to her some of his 
 most particular customers and introduced her with a 
 flourish. Sometimes he paused as he went down the aisle 
 and turned back to stare at her. She knew that she had 
 blushed because her face was hot, and once a woman who 
 was trying to match a sample whispered to her: 
 
 114. " Say, Deborah, what kind of rouge do you use? 
 It gives you the nicest color — and it looks like real! " 
 
 115. When Deborah denied that she painted the woman 
 was angry. She thought Deborah was trying to copyright 
 her complexion. 
 
 116. When the shopper had moved off Asaph hung 
 about awkwardly. Finally he put the backs of his 
 knuckles on the counter and leaned across to murmur : 
 
 117. " Say, Debby, I was telling Jim Crawford yes- 
 terday that you made more sales than any clerk in the 
 shop this last month." 
 
 118. "Oh, really, did I?" Deborah gasped, her eyes 
 snapping like electric sparks. They seeemd to jolt Asaph ; 
 he fell back a little and walked away staring over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 113-118. These paragraphs are similar to those mentioned at 
 the first of the note on 77-97, reminding us with further emphasis 
 of the transformation in Debby } another instance of effective dis- 
 tribution of detail.
 
 276 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 119. That night as Deborah was washing the dishes 
 after supper the doorbell burred. 
 
 120. '' You go, mother, will you ? My hands are all 
 suds." 
 
 121. Mrs. Larrabee hobbled slowly into the hall, but 
 came back with a burst of unsuspected speed. She was 
 pale with fright. 
 
 122. " It's a man! " she whispered. 
 
 123. "A man! Who could it be ?" Debby gasped. 
 
 124. " One of those daylight burglars, prob'ly. What'll 
 we do?" 
 
 125. But Debby, in the new executive habit of her 
 mind, grew bold enough to take at least a peek at the 
 stranger. She tiptoed into the parlor and lifted the shade 
 slightly aside. She speedily recognized a familiar suit. 
 
 119-131. Narration of di-amatic, or direct actional incident, is 
 now taking to some extent the place of the looser, less dx'amaticised 
 narration which has been employed in presenting the preliminary 
 facts, though even yet the running-narrative form still dominates. 
 Introduction of action-developing incident here can be explained 
 thus : Debby's period of blossoming is approaching its climactic 
 height ; the gi'adual change in her and in her relations to existence 
 has made her the central person in a group of actors, whose 
 acts and activities are at last positively and primarily directed 
 toward her and take form in definite, individual incidents of 
 dramatic type. Assuming that the story is built on the rising- 
 action and not on the falling-action stage of the plot (see note 
 on pars. 77-97), these incidents are developing-incidents of the 
 regulation sort; that is, organized groups of acts and happen- 
 ings made to cari-y the action forward toward the decisive mo- 
 ment and climacteric height. Nevertheless, the fact that the pre- 
 vailing narrative method in the present story tends toward that 
 of the running chronicle with occasional employment of the 
 dramatic incident as a means of concentrating and emphasizing 
 the action, directs attention to the utility of this method in dealing 
 with certain kinds of short-story material. A study of S. S. M.j
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 277 
 
 126. " It's old Jim Crawford," she said. 
 
 127. There was a panic of another sort now, getting 
 Debby's hands dry, her sleeves down, her apron off, her 
 hair puffed, the lamp in the parlor lighted. Old Jim 
 Crawford was some minutes older before he was admitted. 
 
 128. It was the first male caller Deborah had had since 
 her mother could remember. The old lady received him 
 with a flourish that would have befitted a king. That he 
 was a widower and, for Carthage, wealthy, may have had 
 something to do with it. A fantastic hope that at last 
 somebody had come to propose to Deborah excited her 
 mother so that she took herself out of the way as soon as 
 the weather had been decently discussed. 
 
 129. Mr. Crawford made a long and ponderous effort 
 at small talk and came round to his errand with the 
 subtlety of an ocean liner warping into its slip. At length 
 he mumbled that if Miss Debby ever got tired of Shil- 
 laber's there was a chance he might make a place for her 
 in his own store. 
 
 130. It was such a luxury to Deborah to be sought after 
 even wath this hippopotamine stealth that she rather pro- 
 
 95:9 (-14); 98:15-22, in which the management of the indi- 
 vidual incident as a means to bringing on the plot-outcome is 
 discussed, will show two things : First, that the organization of 
 the materials into distinct individual yet interlocking incidents 
 must be the usual dependence of the writer of narrative-drama 
 (contes), but second, that this method is subject to whatever 
 degree of modification that the author's conception of his story, 
 his materials, the effect he aims to produce, and his ability, may 
 combine to bring about. Mr. Hughes's story therefore affords an 
 opportunity for studying not only the essential nature of self- 
 inclusive plot-developing incident, but also the skillful modifica- 
 tion and adaptation of general narrative method according to 
 the requirements of the story and its intended impression.
 
 278 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 longed the suspense and teased Crawford to an offer, and 
 to an increase in that, before she told him that she would 
 have to " think it over." 
 
 131. He lingered on the porch steps to offer Deborah 
 " anything within reason/' but she still told him she would 
 think it over. When she thought it over she felt it would 
 be base ingratitude to desert Asaph Shillaber, who had 
 saved her from starvation by taking her into his beautiful 
 shop. !Mo bribe should decoy her thence so long as he 
 wanted her. 
 
 132. A few evenings later there was another ring at 
 the Larrabee bell. This time Mrs. Larrabee showed no 
 alarm except that she might be late to the door. It was 
 Asaph ! He was as sheepish as a boy. He said that it 
 was kind of lonesome over at his house and seeing their 
 light he kind of thought he'd drop round and be a little 
 neighborly. Everybody was growing neighborly nowadays. 
 
 133. Once more Mrs. Larrabee vanished. As she sat 
 in the dining-room pretending to knit she thought how 
 good it was to have a man in the house. The rumble of 
 a deep voice was so comfortable that she fell asleep long 
 before Asaph could bring himself to go home. 
 
 134. He had previously sought diversion in the society 
 of some of the very young and very pretty salesgirls in 
 his store, but he found that, for all their graces, their 
 prattle bored him. They talked all about themselves or 
 their friends. But Debby talked to Asaph about Asaph. 
 
 135. That long-silent door-bell became a thing to listen 
 for of evenings. Jim Crawford dropped round now and 
 
 135-136. Illustrates the employment of hastened (as contrasted 
 with retarded) movement as a means of conveying' the lapse of 
 time (cf. n. 90-98). The effect is created by the enumeration of
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 270 
 
 then. Three times that year JSTewt Meldrum was in town 
 and called on Deborah. She asked him to supper once 
 and he simply raved over the salt-rising biscuits and the 
 peach pusserves. After supper he asked if he might 
 smoke. That was the last word in masculine possession. 
 If frankincense and myrrh had been shaken about the 
 room, Debby and Mrs. Larrabee could not have cherished 
 them as they did the odor of tobacco in the curtains next 
 day. Mrs. Larrabee cried a little. Her husband had 
 smoked. 
 
 136. Deborah was only now passing through the stages 
 the average woman travels in her teens and early twenties. 
 Deborah was having callers. Sometimes Asaph and Jim 
 Crawford came the same night and tried to freeze each 
 other out. Deborah knew the superlative female rapture 
 of being quarreled over by two males. And finally she 
 had a proposal — from Asaph ; from Josie's and Birda- 
 line's Asaph ! They had left him alone with Debby once 
 too often. 
 
 137. It was not a romantic wooing, and Asaph was not 
 offering the first love of a bachelor heart. He was a trade- 
 broken widower with a series of assorted orphans on his 
 hands. And his declaration was dragged out of him by 
 jealousy and fear. 
 
 leading facts or customary happenings only, in any way that indi- 
 cates the consummg of time. 
 
 136-148. According to which theory of the plot-management 
 (n. 77-97) we prefer, this passage represents the second main 
 stage of the rising action or the second item of the outcome as 
 included in the falling action (the first item being her develop- 
 ment into desirability). We may regard this stage as continuing 
 through pars. 149-154.
 
 280 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 138. Jim Crawford, after numerous failures to decoy 
 Deborah, had at last offered her the position of head sales- 
 woman ; this included not only authority and increase of 
 pay, but two trips a year to New York as buyer! 
 
 139. Deborah's soul hungered for that journey to Car- 
 cassonne before she died, but she put the temptation from 
 her as an ingratitude to Asaph. Still, when Asaph called 
 the next evening, it amused her to tell him that she was 
 going to transfer herself to Crawford's — just to see what 
 he would say and to amuse him. Her trifling joke brought 
 a drama dovra on her head. Asaph turned pale, gulped : 
 
 140. " You're going to leave me, Deborah ! "Why, I — 
 I couldn't get along without you. Jim Crawford's in 
 love with you, the old scoundrel. But I got a nicer house 
 than what he has for you to live in, too. There's the chil- 
 dern, of course; but you like childern. They'd love you. 
 They need mothering something awful. I been meaning 
 to ask you to marry me, but I thought I ought to wait 
 about thirty days more. But I couldn't let you go. You 
 won't, will you ? I want you should marry me. You wall, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 141. Deborah stared at him agape. She had often 
 wondered what she would say if the impossible should 
 happen and a man should ask for her hand. And now it 
 had come in the unlikeliest way, and what she said was: 
 
 142. " Sakes alive, Ase, one of us must be crazy ! " 
 
 143. But he w-as in a panic, and he besieged and be- 
 sought till she told him she would " think it over." The 
 sensation was too delicious to be finished with an immedi- 
 ate monosyllable. He w^ent away blustering. Her mother 
 had slept through the cataclysm. Deborah postponed tell- 
 in<r her and went to her room in a state of ecstatic distress.
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 281 
 
 144. Deborah was experiencing the rapturous terror 
 that assails young brides, the dread of the profoundest 
 revolution in a woman's life. Only in her case the terror 
 was the greater from the double duration of her maiden- 
 hood. She was still a girl and yet gray was in her 
 hair. 
 
 145. The thought of marriage was almost intolerably 
 fearful, and yet it was almost intolerably beautiful. 
 
 146. How wonderful that she should be asked to marry 
 the ideal of her youth. She could have a husband, a home, 
 and children of various ages, from the little tot to the 
 grown-ups. She had given up hope of having babies of 
 her own, but she could acquire these ready-made. All her 
 stifled domestic instincts flamed at the new empire offered 
 her. 
 
 147. And then she remembered Josie and Josie's 
 sneer : " Poor old Debby. She never was a rose." 
 
 148. And now Josie was dead a year and more, and 
 Josie's children and Josie's lover were submitted to her 
 to take or to leave. What a revenge it w^ould be ; what a 
 squaring of old accounts! How she would turn the laugh 
 back on them ! How well she could laugh who waited to 
 the last ! 
 
 149. Then she shook her head. What had she to do 
 with revenge ? We can all deal sharply with our friends, 
 but we must be magnanimous with our foes. 
 
 150. Deborah waited to announce her decision till 
 Asaph should call again. Then she told him what she had 
 decided, but not why. He suspected every other reason 
 except the truth. He was always a quick, hard fighter, 
 and now Deborah had to endure what Josie had endured 
 all her life. He denounced her, threatened her, cajoled
 
 2S2 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 her, pleaded witli her; but Josic's ghost chaperoned the 
 two, forbade the banns. 
 
 151. The next day in the store Asaph looked wretched. 
 Deborah gi-ew the more desirable for her denial. He had 
 thought that he had but to ask her; and now she had re- 
 fused his beseeching. lie paused before her counter and 
 begged her to reconsider. 
 
 152. He called at her home every evening. He went 
 to her mother and implored her aid. The poor old soul 
 could hardly believe her ears when she heard that Deborah 
 was not only desired, but difficult. She promised Asaph 
 that Deborah should yield, and he ^vent away happy. 
 
 153. There was a weird conflict in the forsaken house 
 that night. The old pictures nearly fell off the walls at 
 the sight of the stupefied mother trying to compel that 
 lifelong virgin to the altar. Mrs. Larrabee pointed out 
 that there would never be another chance. The A. G. and 
 St. P. Ry. was in the receiver's hands. They would starve 
 if Deborah lost her job. 
 
 15-1. Deborah's only answ^er w^as that she would go to 
 Crawford's. Her mother could not shake her decision and 
 hobbled off to bed in senile dismay. She had always been 
 asking what the world was coming to, and now it was 
 there. 
 
 155. Deborah's heart was a whirlpool of indecision. 
 
 155. The second stage (see preceding note) has now developed 
 until it creates a spiritual crisis for Debby, The various character- 
 hints concerning her self-obUterating and sympathetic nature, 
 such as we have ah-eady noted (n. 98-109) now disclose their 
 additional function as plot-motivators; for we are at the critical 
 height of Debby's history, in the period of resistant (or if we 
 prefer, of anticipatory) delay; see S. S. M., 154:7 (with note); 
 74, footnote. Her crisis is created by her cbai'aeter.
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 283 
 
 Asaph's gloom appalled her; his evident need of her was 
 his one unanswerable argument. He had given her her 
 start in life ; how could she desert his store ; how could 
 she refuse him his prayer ? But how could she take 
 Josie's place, kidnap Josie's children ? Why was such a 
 puzzle forced upon her, where every decision was cruel to 
 some one, treacherous to something? 
 
 156. The turmoil made such a din in her soul that she 
 could hardly transact the business at her counter. As she 
 stood one morning asking a startled shopper if a bolt of 
 maroon taffeta matched a clipping of magenta satin, she 
 saw ISTewton Meldrum enter the store. As he went by to 
 the office he saw her, lifted his hat, held it in air while 
 he gazed, then went on. 
 
 157. It occurred to Deborah that he could help her. 
 She could lay the case before him and he would give her 
 an impartial decision. She waited for him and when he 
 left the office she beckoned to him and asked him shyly if 
 he would take supper with her and her mother. 
 
 158. " You bet I will," he said, and stared at her so 
 curiously that she flashed red. 
 
 157. See notes 136-148, 77-97. We now have either the decisive 
 moment in Debby's history, or the preparation for the third 
 and eonchiding episode of the outcome. If we regard it as the 
 decisive moment, the incident that it precipitates may be called 
 the conclusive outcome : Debby achieves the ultimate of her 
 dreams. (Without abandoning this theory of the present plot, we 
 can also say that Debby's engagement is the climactic episode of 
 the plot-outcome, the latter being regarded, as under the other 
 theory, as her blossoming-forth taken in its entirety, i.e., all the 
 story forward from par. 75 or 82). (The student must not be 
 deceived by the placid manner of the narrative into thinking 
 there is no intensity of experience, emotion, or passion in its 
 events and situations : " Still waters run deep." Looking back,
 
 28-i Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 159. Tlirougli the supper, too, lie stared at her so hard 
 that she buttered her thumb instead of her salt-rising bis- 
 cuit. Afterward she led him to the parlor and closed the 
 door on her mother. This was in itself an epoch-making 
 deed. Then she said to Newt : 
 
 160c " Better light the longest cigar you have, for I 
 have a long story to tell you. Got a match ? " 
 
 101. He had, but he said he hadn't. She fetched one 
 and was so confused that she lighted it for him. Her hand 
 trembled so that he had to steady it with his own big 
 fingers, and he stared at her instead of at the match, whose 
 flickering rays lighted her face eerily. 
 
 162. When she had him settled in a chair — the best 
 patent-rocker — she told him her story. There is no surer 
 test of character than the problem a soul extracts from a 
 diSiculty. As Meldrum watched this simple starved soul 
 stating its bewilderment, he saw that her one concern was 
 wdiat she should do to be truest to other souls. There was 
 no question of her own advantage. 
 
 163. He studied her earnestly, and his eyes were veiled 
 with a kind of smoke of their own behind the scarf of 
 tobacco fumes. When she had finished she raised her 
 eyes to his in meek appeal and murmured: 
 
 we can see that the love between Meldrum and Debby, breaking 
 out with apparent suddenness here, has in truth been thoroughly 
 motivated. Therefore Debby's decision to consult Newt about her 
 duty to Asaph, besides being in itself an indication of her uncon- 
 scious regard for and dependence on him, clearly constitutes a 
 decisive moment; what follows is practically inevitable, according 
 to prevailing human experience. The student will notice too the 
 effectiveness of the sudden emotional outburst in this incident — 
 another instance of the contrast, both explicit and imj^licit, which 
 contributes so much to the ultimate effectiveness of the story.)
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 285 
 
 164. " And now what ought I to do ? " 
 
 165. He gazed at her for a long while before he 
 answered : 
 
 166. "Do you want to go to Crawford's?" 
 
 167. " Well, I'd get more money and I'd get to see 
 New York, but I don't like to leave Asaph. He says he 
 needs me." 
 
 168. " Do you — do you want to marry Asaph? " 
 
 169. " Oh, no; I — I like him awfully much, but — I — 
 I'm kind of afraid of him, too. But he says he needs me." 
 
 170. " But do you— love Asaph ? " 
 
 171. " Oh, no ! Not the kind of love, that is, that you 
 read about. No, I'm kind of afraid of him. But I'm 
 not expecting the kind of love you read about. I'm won- 
 dering what I ought to do ? " 
 
 172. " And you want me to decide ? " 
 
 173. " If you only would." 
 
 174. " Why do you leave it to me of all people ? " 
 
 175. " Because you're such a fine man ; you know so 
 much. I have more — more respect for you than for any- 
 body else I know." 
 
 176. " You have ! " 
 
 177. " Oh, yes ! Oh, yes, indeed." 
 
 178. " And you'll do what I tell you to ? " 
 
 179. " Yes— yes, I will." 
 
 180. "Promise?" 
 
 181. " I promise." 
 
 182. " Give me your hand on it." 
 
 183. He rose and stood before her and put forth that 
 great palm of his and she set her slim white fingers in it. 
 And then there must have been an earthquake or some- 
 thing, for suddenly she was swept to her feet and she was
 
 2SG Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 enveloped in his big arms and crushed against him, and 
 his big mouth was pressed so fiercely to hers that she could 
 not breathe. 
 
 184. She was so frightened that her heart seemed to 
 break. She knew nothing more till she found herself in 
 the patent-rocker, with him kneeling at her side, pleading 
 with her to forgive him for the brute he was. 
 
 185. She was verv weak and very much afraid of him, 
 r.nd entirely bewildered. She wanted to run away, but he 
 would not even let her rise. The only thing that reas- 
 sured her was his saying over and over again : 
 
 186. " You are the most beautiful thing in this world." 
 
 187. She had to laugh at that; and she heard herself 
 saying : 
 
 188. " Why, Xewt Meldrum, one of us must be crazy." 
 
 189. " I am — crazy with love of you." 
 
 190. " But to call me beautiful — poor old Debby ! " 
 
 191. "You are beautiful; you're the handsomest 
 woman I know." 
 
 192. " Me — with my white hair! " 
 
 193. "■' White roses. I don't know what's happened to 
 you, Debby. You're not the woman I talked to at Asaph's 
 at all. You're like a girl — with silver hair. You've got 
 a woman's big heart, and you haven't the selfishness of the 
 young, but that kind of wonderful sadness that sweetens 
 a soul more than anything else, and you're the darnedest 
 prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on." 
 
 194. Meldrum was as much amazed as Deborah was 
 at hearing such rhapsodies from his matter-of-fact soul. 
 
 195. Her comment was prosaic enough; she fell back 
 and sighed : 
 
 196. " Well, I guess both of us must be crazy."
 
 The Last Rose of Summer 287 
 
 197. " I guess we are," he laughed boyishly. " We'd 
 better get married and keep the insanity in one family." 
 
 198. " Get married ! " she echoed, still befuddled. 
 " And you telling me what you did ? " 
 
 199. " Yes, but I didn't know the Lord was at work 
 on a masterpiece like you, girl, woman, grandmother, 
 child, beauty, brains — all in one." 
 
 200. Deborah was as exhausted by the shock as if she 
 had been stunned by lightning. She was tired out with 
 the first kiss an impassioned man had ever pressed upon 
 her lips, the first bone-threatening hug an ursine lover had 
 ever inflicted upon her inexperienced ribs. 
 
 201. She was more afraid of 'Newt Meldrum than she 
 had been of Asaph. But when she told him she would 
 think it over, he declined to go. He laughed at her pleas. 
 She had promised to abide by his decision, and he had 
 decided that she should go neither to Asaph nor to Craw- 
 ford, but to New York — not as any old buyer, either, ex- 
 cept of things for her own beautiful body, and some hats 
 for that fleecy white hair of hers. And she should live in 
 New York, take her mother there if she wanted, and close 
 up this house after they had been married in it. 
 
 202. She had been shaking her head to all these things 
 and dismissing them gently as the ravings of a delirious 
 boy. But now she said: 
 
 203. " Oh, I could never be married in this town." 
 
 204. "And why not?" 
 
 205. " Oh, I don't know ; I just couldn't." 
 
 206. She was still afraid that people w^ould laugh at 
 her, but more afraid that they would think she was trying 
 to flaunt her triumph over them ; the triumph of marry- 
 ing the great Newton Meldrum. She could bear the
 
 288 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 lauiihter; she was used to the town's ridicule. But she 
 could not endure to be triumphing over anybody. 
 
 207. Meldrum did not fret over her motives ; he simply 
 nodded. 
 
 208. " All right, then we'll be married in New York, 
 llow soon can you start? " 
 
 209. She stared at him, this amazing man. " How 
 soon ? Why, I haven't said I'd marry you yet. I'll have 
 to think it over." 
 
 210. He laughed and crushed her in his arms and 
 would not let her breathe till she breathed " Yes." 
 
 211. He was the most amazing man. But the men 
 were all so amazing when you got to know them. And it 
 seemed to Deborah that they must have all gone crazy at 
 once. 
 
 211. The student will derive profit from deciding for himself 
 why this simple, abrupt, almost irrelevant ending is neither flat, 
 insignificant, nor inartistic — why it is in keeping with the mood of 
 the story, the tone of the narrative, and the character of the 
 central person.
 
 HIS BUBBLE REPUTATION 
 
 The Stoey as a Whole 
 
 1. A theme story, primarily emphasizing the motif of 
 chance or even accident that enters into affairs, affecting 
 the most careful plans. The author is an officer in our 
 army, and has chosen military incident and fact as the 
 material out of which to build up plot and action. 
 Through this choice of materials the story is given its 
 military atmosphere and tone, and limited to such a range 
 of acts, persons, and descriptions as is consistent with 
 military fact. 
 
 2. A story that, by its nature, is without a central 
 actor, in the strict sense. The successive importance of 
 the main persons is noted in the running notes. The per- 
 sons, like the incidents, are subordinated to emphasis of 
 the motif. The manner of accomplishing this, without 
 sacrificing general unity, is worth study. 
 
 3. Very compact in presentation. Few details are 
 employed that are not essentially involved in the plot. 
 The elements of plot, situation, character, and the like — 
 that is, the basic fiction-drama elements — are so man- 
 aged as to contribute the necessary qualities of tone, 
 atmosphere, and setting mainly without the aid of ex- 
 traneous concentrative or intensifying matter. Cf. the 
 running note concerning the battle incident. In style, 
 compact, direct, and effective, with rugged descriptive and 
 narrative force, and no waste effort. 
 
 4. An instance of that originality or " difference " in 
 
 289
 
 200 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 viewpoint that editors say they are always seeking. There 
 have been many tales of war and battle, but probably 
 never one exactly like to this, in which — structurally — a 
 battle that decides the destinies of nations is merely an inci- 
 dent of plot establishment to bring forward a theme. 
 Most writers would think the battle the main thing. 
 
 5. Admirable also for refraining everywhere from a 
 formal statement of the theme. The author evidently 
 thinks that, if the action embodies the thought, thinking 
 readers will be able to grasp it without having it put into 
 words for them.
 
 HIS BUBBLE EEPUTATION 
 By Capt. George Brydges Rodney, U. S. A. 
 
 Reprinted from "Adventure" for December, 1913, by Permission 
 
 of the Editors and the Author. 
 
 (Copyright, 1913, by the Ridgway Company ) 
 
 1. It was almost a stage-setting — ranged tents in order 
 along the edge of the clearing; the General's flag, square, 
 blood-red in color, bearing the three white stars of an 
 American lieutenant-general, waving at the right of the 
 tent; the statuesque orderly; the hurrying aides and 
 couriers ; even to the gray-headed old negro cook bending 
 over his camp-kettles under a great beech where the check- 
 ered light of the May sun dripped like molten gold on the 
 heavy grass. 
 
 2. It looked like a stage-setting; but the resemblance 
 ended there, for no stage presentment could possibly imi- 
 tate the deep-throated throb of the International Army's 
 gun-fire that came fitfully from the northwest, every shot 
 jarring the little assemblage like an electric shock. The 
 very atmosphere was surcharged. It was evident that the 
 storm must soon burst. 
 
 3. Day after day, the sun rising over the long Spruce 
 Eidge had overtaken long, brown columns hurrying west- 
 ward, westward ever; laden trucks and w^agons; long, 
 
 1. S. S. M., 124: 4 (especially C), 5, 6. On pars. 1-2, and fol- 
 lowing, S. S. M., 127 : 9, 10, 11 ; 137 : 2 ; 139 : 4 ; 141 : 9 ; 149 : 19. 
 Par. 1 is setting merely ; par. 2 is this plus exposition and height- 
 ened atmosphere; par. 3 is these plus activity (S. S. M., 37:4). 
 
 291
 
 292 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 venomous-looking guns tugging and straining along the 
 rough mountain roads. Long columns of cavalry — 
 horsemen whose very appearance spelled eflRciency — went 
 through the woodland, leaving the track free for the foot- 
 troops and the guns and wagons — broad-hatted, brown- 
 shirted cavalrymen, very different indeed from the scarlet, 
 blue and gold of VArmee Internationale whose thousands 
 were massing to the northwest. 
 
 4. It was the gathering of the clans, for every man was 
 straining muscle and sinew to reach the Array of the 
 Center which, under Ware, the new Commander-in-Chief, 
 was hurriedly preparing for Armageddon. 
 
 5. Three months before, the Army of the ISTorth, de- 
 fending the line of the St. Lawrence, had been forced back 
 by sheer weight of numbers, thus throwing open the fron- 
 tier of the Great Lakes. This made necessary the with- 
 drawal of the Army of the Center from its original posi- 
 tion, so that ultimately the Army of the South, being un- 
 supported in an isolated position, had to abandon New 
 Orleans to the enemy, thus putting the entire line of the 
 Mississippi in the hands of the enemy and compelling Ver 
 Planck to withdraw from Texas. 
 
 6. When General Ware assumed command of the 
 Army of the Center he found it about to fight for its very 
 existence and the existence of its wings, with its back 
 against the Spruce Ridge and its flanks flung wide along 
 the slopes that were blue with the flowering buckwheat. 
 
 4. Interest having been aroused, exposition becomes more di- 
 rect and matter-of-fact. Pars. 4-5 amount to consequential exposi- 
 tion — the last stand; failure means ruin (S. S. M., 171 ff. ; 231), 
 Pars. 6-7 present the immediate conditions aifecting the situation 
 and outcome (consequential exposition emphasized).
 
 His Bubble Reputation 293 
 
 Before it lay a victorious army and between the hostile 
 forces was spread a ravaged countryside that showed the 
 depredations of the foe. 
 
 7. To make matters worse, Anarchy was raising its 
 head cobra-like in Chicago and from the Pacific coast 
 came mutterings of discontent, while dread for the Orient 
 was beginning to yawn and stretch in its awakening. For 
 the overturning of the Monroe Doctrine would mean the 
 exploitation of a continent. 
 
 8. For years Ware had seen it coming and for years 
 he had been preparing himself to meet the emergency 
 when it should come. 'No nation can preach peace and 
 practise war. Since 1820 the United States, clamoring 
 loudly that no nation should exploit South America for 
 purposes of colonization, had instituted a most relentless 
 commercial war to force its own manufactures into the 
 markets of the world. 
 
 9. " When a strong man armed keepeth his house, his 
 goods are in peace ; " but the American people had never 
 heeded the biblical warning. The time had come when 
 the opening of the Panama Canal had revolutionized the 
 
 8-9. Three objects accompHshed here: (1) attention centered on 
 the first leading person; (2) concentrative material introduced 
 tending to increase plausibility of the situation assumed, — a state 
 of war, — by presenting a reasonable cause therefor (concealed 
 motivation) ; (3) expression of the author's personal convictions 
 by representing them as the views of a central person and work- 
 ing them into the motivation — well managed. It is natural and 
 consistent incorporation of viewpoint in such ways that enables 
 the short story seriously to influence thought and, consequently, 
 lays grave responsibility on the writer lest he preach a dangerous 
 or false doctrine. Par. 8 scarcely commends itself on this score. 
 —Inciting cause, par. 9 (S. S. M., 74; 85 ff).
 
 294 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ideas of the world. The nations of the Old World had 
 decided overnight to test the Monroe Doctrine. 
 
 10. Any change, even the most minute, made suddenly 
 in a complex organization is bound to cause confusion. A 
 grain of sand dropped in precisely the right place in an 
 engine can cut it to pieces. A change at the head of so 
 delicate an organization as an army is even more demora- 
 lizing. General Ware realized at once that the changes 
 which he deemed necessary could not be made at once. 
 Later he would get rid of his ineffectives as rapidly as 
 occasion permitted, but at present the men would fight best 
 under their known leaders. 
 
 11. It is remarkable how custom can reconcile men to 
 almost anything. An army in this is singularly like 
 a squid that accepts everything, and later, by the 
 slow process of turning itself inside out, ejects 
 the useless matter from which it has sucked the 
 vital juices. 
 
 12. Ware found weaknesses where he had not thought 
 to find them; corrected them only to discover others; 
 readjusted differences, and with the aid of Coulter, his 
 gigantic Chief of Stafi^, correlated his information to ac- 
 cord with the existing facts. And all this was done, not 
 in weeks nor days, but in hours and minutes. For in 
 these days Ware lived " in heart-beats, not in figures on 
 a dial," till on that never-to-be-forgotten evening General 
 Coulter, sitting back on his stool, faced his superior 
 squarely. 
 
 13. " Well, sir ! The ax is ground." 
 
 11-ff. Much like 8-9. bringing on the first of the real action in 
 par. 13-16. Note the quickening of movement and the " snap- 
 piness " that comes \yith the introduction of the dialogue.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 295 
 
 14. Ware nodded. His gray eyes narrowed to pin- 
 points. 
 
 15. " The reports should be in soon from the cavalry- 
 screen " 
 
 16. The tent-fly pulled apart and a gauntlet snapped 
 up in salute. 
 
 17. " Sir, General Hughes has desired me to report 
 that today I took a cavalry patrol out to the southwest as 
 far as Tanville. I found that the enemy's right flank is 
 in the air at that point. It rests upon an open buckwheat 
 field that is fringed along the west with a thicket of black 
 birch " 
 
 18. " What troops have they in position there? " 
 
 17. Second movement begins. The opening movement reveals 
 the general situation and makes us realize the immense issues 
 about to be decided. The struggle required by the plot is a struggle 
 between armies, and will be the decisive struggle between nations 
 and consequently between national ideals. The action of the 
 plot now actively enters the rising stage (S. S. M., 74:92:1-3), 
 beginning with dialogue that expounds the necessary details about 
 the armies, and especially gives the atmosphere of military plan- 
 ning. It thus realizes for us one fact that is vital to the estab- 
 lishment of the theme later on — that this struggle of nations by 
 means of their armies is in truth an intellectual struggle between 
 generals (note that complicating elements of such a struggle as 
 this would be in actual warfare are omitted — differences in equip- 
 ment, arms, ammunition supply, etc. Cf. S. S. M., 80:3), 
 
 18-32. Includes intensifying detail (pars. 18-25), increasing the 
 atmosphere of military situation. — May be regarded as an exam- 
 ple of retarded movement (Genung, Practical Els. Rhet.). Now 
 that interest has been caught, the story can take time to produce 
 atmospheric effect, give character analysis (pars. 26-27), etc. — 
 What hints of character can you discover in the dialogue? Is 
 the section effective in producing verisimilitude (S. S. M., 92: 14; 
 241 ff.)? Point out the concrete means employed to accomplish
 
 296 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 19. " The Third Division of the Twelfth Corps, sir. 
 It is composed of Borchlanders and Friesland troops." 
 
 20. " H'm ! Two nationalities. What guns have they 
 there ? " 
 
 21. '' Twelve field-batteries, sir, entrenched. There is 
 no cavalry on that flank. Their entire cavalry force is 
 withdrawing by their own rear to the left." 
 
 22. " Ansterlitz on a minor scale," growled Coulter. 
 " They mean to pivot on their own right " 
 
 23. The Commander-in-Chief bent over a map, stick- 
 ing colored pins here and there along the mountain range. 
 
 24. " Very good. Captain," he said presently. " Is 
 that all ? " 
 
 25. " Yes, sir." 
 
 26. The officer saluted and departed. The Chief of 
 Staff sat and watched his superior as a cat might watch 
 a mouse. For a long half-hour Ware sat, his chin dropped 
 forward upon his breast, studying, not the map, but ap- 
 parently a pendant rope in the tent corner, intent, un- 
 seeing. 
 
 27. Long ago he had developed the self-effacement of 
 an Indian guru and the introspective self-analysis of an 
 old-time seer. Paper itself w^as not a better medium for 
 the transmission of thought than was that wonderful brain 
 that worked and worked behind the blue-gray eyes just as 
 the twelve thousand horse-power engines of a destroyer 
 
 this. — Note the effect of conereteness from mentioning specific 
 divisions and corps of the army, the two hostile generals, the 
 foreign places. — Note the employment of action (or activity; 
 S. S. M., 136:1; 140-141) at the beginning and end of the sec- 
 tion, with the non-actional elements in the middle; the activity 
 is thus made to carry the other elements of effect, as should 
 always be the case in drama or narrative.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 29Y 
 
 work behind her cruising lights. He shook himself into 
 action, studying Coulter from under bent brows. 
 
 28. " Do you know General Printz, their Commander- 
 in-Chief ? " he asked. 
 
 29. " Yes, sir. I met him at " 
 
 30. " Never mind that. What is he ? " 
 
 31. "A modern von Moltke without his humanizing 
 weaknesses. A true materialist type. Nothing that can 
 not be proved by equations exists for him and what his 
 calculations show to be impossible simply cannot be done." 
 
 32. " That is how I too have summarized him. I 
 studied him at Spoten when I was supposed to be studying 
 methods of mounting aeroplane guns. He is all that you 
 say, and more. Here " 
 
 33. He unrolled a great map upon the table and threw 
 himself across it. Coulter pinned it down and placed four 
 tall candles upon the rough table, where they guttered in 
 the night wind. A sentry tramped softly along the woods 
 trail outside the tent and a chatter came from a box in a 
 distant corner, where Ware's pet monkey slept upon a 
 folded saddle-blanket. As far as was indicated by out- 
 side noises one would never have guessed the presence of 
 the sleeping thousands on the ground where the long 
 bivouac spread along the sloping hills. 
 
 34. " We will fight at dawn, sir." The curt tones cut 
 the silence like a whip-lash. The tent-wall behind them 
 bellied in the wind unnoticed by either of the men.^ 
 
 33. The description pi'ovides atmospheric setting for the im- 
 mediate action. 
 
 34. 'Apparently a mere detail of the setting; its significance 
 becomes manifest in par. 56.
 
 298 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 35. " I rarely talk of my plans, but I want you to 
 understand clearly what I intend to do. I mean to take 
 a big risk. I mean to do what Lee did at Chancellors- 
 ville/' 
 
 36. Coulter uttered an exclamation and sat gazing at 
 his chief. 
 
 37. " They think," Ware went on contemplatively, 
 " that they have solved my personal equation and that 
 their solution cannot be wrong. They believe that their 
 solution of that equation is the key to this fight and to the 
 campaign. They have themselves reduced war to a con- 
 test of draughtsmen and typewriters. They say that noth- 
 ing is left to chance. As a matter of fact, Coulter, we 
 trained soldiers know that the most successful leader has 
 always been he who left the least to chance. What I am 
 trying to say is " 
 
 38. He rose and, rummaging in a field-desk, produced 
 a small card-index, well thumbed, which he placed before 
 him upon the table. 
 
 39. " This is a copy of my personal dossier that Gen- 
 eral Printz has spent two years in completing. It took 
 two men a year to get it for me, but I have discovered 
 their opinion of me. Listen." He read slowly: 
 
 " Brave, intelligent. 'No great audacity. 
 Trained after European models. See Milfelling and 
 Pschorrleben." 
 
 37. The idea of the importance of the generals is again empha- 
 sized; of. closing comment on par. 17. Pars. 37-41, and several 
 others, contain interesting revelation of modern mihtary methods. 
 Besides intensifying the miUtary atmosphere, these contribute 
 strongly to the impression of verisimilitude.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 299 
 
 40. " Now, Coulter, the man who wrote those notes is 
 not only firmly wedded to his own ideals in waging war, 
 but he cannot conceive that his own estimate of others can 
 possibly be wrong. He cannot conceive of audacity in 
 others unless it is authorized by his own text-books. 
 
 41. " For forty years the Continental schools have 
 taught that Lee's famous movement at Chancellorsville 
 would have been suicidal if made before a European army 
 and that he would never have dared make it had he not 
 known the personal equation of Hooker. They say they 
 know mine now and their own dossier shows me to be like 
 Hooker. By consequence, I dare not move. I have no 
 audacity. Obviously the thing for me to do is to copy Lee. 
 Give me the stamp-pad and I will place the troops." 
 
 42. The canvas wall of the tent bellied spasmodically 
 
 40. This and 41 really contain comment on the weakness in the 
 military, intellectual, and spiritual character of the gi^eatest mili- 
 tary nation of the world, the self-woi'shiping Germans. They 
 are therefore paragraphs of (hidden) social characterization. 
 (Instances of this characteristically German attitude of mind have 
 been so numerous since Germany began her attack on art and 
 the humanitarian bases of civilization as to verify beyond dis- 
 pute the interpretation given in this story.) Cf. par. 37, and 
 watch for other instances. 
 
 41. The characterization of Ware that has been gradually build- 
 ing up from par. 17 forward culminates here. Note that Ware's 
 conduct invalidates the assumption of the enemy strategists, as 
 Ware himself explains in par. 40. Later we shall have reason 
 to note that Ware's careful reasoning is itself futile, and that 
 something like pure chance (yet chance motivated on recognized 
 fact, not accidental chance) determines the outcome. All this is 
 involved in the theme-concept. 
 
 42. ' The four closing words begin to give us the sense of some- 
 thing significant but as yet unexplained in this bellying of the 
 tent; cf. 34 and 44. — Observe in the following paragraphs the 
 congruous realistic detail.
 
 300 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 as if uiulor pressure.^ But it passed unnoticed as the two 
 men flung themselves prone upon the table, General Ware 
 with the little blue stamp-pad and the oblong rubber stamp 
 that indicated a division, with which he meant to block 
 out upon the map the location of his troops for the fight 
 that was to take place upon the morrow. 
 
 43. '' Here I will place Avery, Morton, and Bell." 
 The stamp came down viciously. " Here are Gates, At- 
 wood, and Holton with the artillery. Put Weston with 
 his cavalry far out to the left by Turner's farm. If our 
 plan succeeds at all we will have use for Weston there, for 
 that is their strategical flank. And now, here on the Gran- 
 ville Road, I will block out the troops for the turning 
 movement. Hopkins will command them and we will 
 give him every rifle not absolutely needed elsewhere. If 
 Hopkins can make this turning movement, the day is 
 ours." 
 
 44. Again and again the stamp came down while 
 Coulter feverishly jotted down in his note-book the details 
 for his orders and the canvas wall pushed in and in. 
 There was a vicious chuckle from the corner of the tent 
 where the monkey coughed and chattered over the draught ; 
 for the night air was cold as it drew down from the higher 
 peaks. 
 
 45. " Confound that beast Toto ! I wish I had left 
 him at home." 
 
 46. Ware threw a bit of paper at the animal and went 
 
 44. The monkey's behavior, like the bellying of the tent in 34, 
 seems for the moment nothing more than a bit of realistic detail. 
 In fact, however, we are being prepared for the determining ele- 
 ment of the plot.
 
 His Bubble Eeputation 301 
 
 on with his work. Presently the two men sat back and 
 stared at each other. The plan was complete. 
 
 47. General Ware rose, slowly changed his coat, drew 
 on his gloves and stared hard at Coulter. His look went 
 through him and through the tent-wall to the long lines 
 of his sleeping infantry upon the hills outside. 
 
 48. " I am going to ride over to see McCann," he said. 
 " I should be back in two or three hours. The news will 
 be in from the cavalry by one o'clock at latest. As soon 
 as it comes in, if there is no change, make out the orders 
 to the Corps Commanders as I have directed. Be sure 
 that they get them in plenty of time to get their men into 
 position an hour before daylight. We will attack at 
 dawn " 
 
 49. " General, have you thought of what will happen 
 if the enemy should discover this gap that you are leaving 
 between Hopkins on the left and the center while Hopkins 
 is getting into position ? " 
 
 50. " Yes, sir ! I have thought and thought till I think 
 my brain was atrophied. Each move that I contemplate 
 has its reverse side. I refuse any longer to consider it. 
 ' To make an omelet it is necessary to break eggs.' I will 
 take this risk exactly as Lee took it when he showed all 
 the world how to fight. Send out the orders for a fight at 
 daylight." 
 
 51. Coulter slowly left the tent and looked back once 
 to see Ware scanning critically for the last time the map 
 on which he had placed his troops. From his place in 
 front of the tent he heard Ware pass behind him and then 
 he heard the receding tramp of the iron-shod hoofs along 
 
 49. Reintroduction (therefore emphasis of) consequential expo- 
 sition j cf. 4.
 
 302 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the soft woods road. He turned sighing, his face gray 
 with care as he bade a courteous good-night to the orderly. 
 
 52. " He may be right," he muttered. " He may be 
 right What was that ? " 
 
 53. " The new sentry being posted on Number One, 
 sir," said the corporal. 
 
 54. " Very good." 
 
 55. He tramped heavily over to his own tent; the can- 
 vas fly dropped into place behind him and Toto shivered 
 and chattered in his cold loneliness in the big tent. 
 
 56. Presently a curious thing happened. Ware's coat, 
 which lay upon a stool, began to move slowly toward the 
 tent-wall and gradually disappeared under the edge. A 
 moment later the bottom of the wall was raised and the 
 head and shoulders of a man appeared. He hastily 
 scanned the interior of the tent, drew himself inside, 
 crouched for a moment in the shadow of the table till the 
 receding steps of the sentry told that the guard had passed. 
 Then he sprang to his feet and threw himself at the great 
 map upon which the Commander-in-Chief had so carefully 
 blocked out the position of his divisions. The next few 
 moments set their seal upon him, for men age rapidly 
 in war. 
 
 56-61. The generating circumstance (S. S. M., 74:85ff.). So 
 far as narrational and dramatic machinery is concei'ned, the plot 
 conflict involves merely the question, will Ware, by his careful 
 planning, outgeneral the invading eommandei's; from this point 
 of view, the fact that the existence of the nation depends on the 
 battle is irrelevant, except that it intensifies interest in the 
 dramatic struggle. If we keep this in mind, we perceive that 
 the status quo (S. S. M., 85:1) has been threatened with no 
 change until the spy gets to the map ; here then is the generating 
 circumstance according to the purely technical definition.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 303 
 
 57. " I wish I could have heard all they said," he mut- 
 tered. " Given five minutes here and the work is done." 
 
 58. In the windy silence his whisper sounded in his 
 own ears as loud as a shout. He pulled from his pocket 
 a strip of tracing-cloth, spread it across the map, seized 
 the rubber stamp and the felt pad that still lay where 
 Ware had left them upon the table. In a short half- 
 minute he had reproduced upon his narrow paper the 
 work that had taken Ware days to plan — and years to 
 learn. 
 
 59. " So ! He means to hold us in front with these 
 skeleton divisions and make a turning movement to take 
 us by surprise and roll up our left flank with the rest ! 
 Yet Priutz says the man has no daring ! To make merely 
 a show of resistance in our front — and this against the 
 crack troops of Europe ! Oh, the sheer luck of this trip 
 of mine tonight! What's that?" 
 
 60. It was Coulter calling for an orderly. The spy 
 glanced about him and again bent over the table, his back 
 to the tent door as the newly posted sentry passed. He 
 took his time over that tracing, for he knew that even if 
 the sentry should see him the soldier would think it was 
 the General at work. 
 
 61. A gust of wet wind drove through the tent. Toto 
 shrieked and raved profanely in his cold blankets. The 
 man started violently and threw the stamp at him, rolled 
 up his tracing-cloth, removed the General's coat, dived 
 
 61. Five words in sentence 3 give us, although we do not sus- 
 pect it, the decisive moment — so far as it can be actually located 
 in this story. A surprise effect is given to the story by the 
 realization of this when at last we do realize it.
 
 301: Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 under the tent wall and disappeared. The wet silence of 
 the night was broken only by the stamp of the restive 
 horses and the low-voiced talk of the headquarters guard. 
 
 62. Standing under his tent-fly, General Coulter re- 
 ceived the reports from the advance cavalry, slowly noted 
 them down and checked off time and distance upon his 
 map. ^Vhen the last officer had reported, he bade them 
 good night and reentered the headquarters tent. A long 
 silence fell that was broken presently by the smashing 
 blow of a heavy fist upon a table and a deep-voiced growl 
 of approval that brought an aide from his tiny tent. 
 
 63. "Is there anything I can do, General Coulter?" 
 
 64. " Yes, sir ! " 
 
 65. Coulter sprang to his feet, for his excitement was 
 tremendous. " You can get down upon your knees and 
 thank the God of Battles, if you believe in one in this 
 degenerate age, for having given us a man at last." 
 
 66. The astonished aide, after a puzzled look at the 
 excited Chief of Staff, withdrew, leaving Coulter seated 
 at the table lost in contemplation as he pulled nervously 
 at his mustache. 
 
 67. " By Heaven, and he talked to me as though I 
 were a child ! Was all that to blind me or to persuade 
 himself ? I never expected to see in this world such mas- 
 terly use of terrain. What could be better than this ! It 
 will be like asking a man to a Barmecide feast and giving 
 
 62-64. Coulter's exclamation makes us wonder for a moment 
 why he is so enthusiastic now, when (par. 49-52) he was previ- 
 ously so dubious. But it is not until the entire outcome has been 
 explained (see preceding note) that we understand the reason for 
 it. — Perhaps the lapse of time is not indicated with sufficient 
 emphasis before Coulter's return to headquarters tent. Passage 
 of time is not made as clear as, for instance, it is in par. 68.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 305 
 
 him a banquet fit for Lucullus. Orderly, call in tbe 
 clerks." 
 
 68. For more than an hour he sat there dictating, test- 
 ing, and retesting his own orders. A scant two hours be- 
 fore dawn he threw himself upon his cot, while the wires 
 of the field telegraph and telephones clicked and whirred 
 with the orders that were to move three hundred thousand 
 men when the first rays of the morning sun should lighten 
 the shadows of the Spruce Ridge. 
 
 69. Dawn came at last ; a perfect May day, ushered 
 into being by a crash of artillery that woke every echo of 
 
 69-91. The third movement. As far as par. 89, it presents the 
 outcome — shows (apparently) the triumph of Ware's plan of bat- 
 tle. No mention of the spy or his work is made, and we are left to 
 infer that in some way he failed. Beginning with par. 90, intro- 
 duction of the facts that contain the surprise and afford the true 
 explanation of the outcome is begun. — Note that now it is Coulter 
 who appears as the leading person. At first thought, one would 
 say that the story suffers from a shifting of importance from one 
 person to another — from Ware to Coulter (and possibly at one 
 point to the spy; the personality of the invading generals also 
 receives attention). Consideration of the story as a whole, how- 
 ever, shows that this shifting is an essential element of the effect. 
 The hostile commanders laid their plans; Ware laid his plans; 
 the enemy countered them on the spy's information; Coulter 
 directed the battle like a great general — on the new plan that he 
 believed to be that of his chief; but in fact, when all the ablest 
 soldiers had done their best, the outcome was the result of none 
 of these things immediately, but of an unforeseen bit of chance 
 on which the battle turned — a chance perfectly natural, yet so 
 remote that human intellect could not have dreamed of it. The 
 unity of the story, therefore, does not depend upon unity of 
 person, nor yet upon unity of time, motivation, action, setting, 
 or atmosphere (although these latter are all adequately present) ; 
 its sustaining unity is that of motif and theme — the thought that 
 the most careful purposes of men are subject for good or ill
 
 306 ToDAY*s Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the hills and hung in clamor along the pine-clad slopes. 
 The first reverberating roar found Coulter, iron-visaged, 
 standing before his tent, vast, imperturbable. 
 
 70. To him couriers came galloping intent and anxious. 
 To him came ' gallopers ' bearing requests for aid and to 
 each he gave the same reply; the immortal reply of the 
 Iron Duke in like case : 
 
 Yl. " General Penton requires support, sir " 
 
 72. " Is he cut to pieces ? " 
 
 73. " No, sir ; but " 
 
 74. " Tell him to stay where he is. He can have no 
 assistance." 
 
 to happenings or influences beyond their control or foresight. 
 Evidently, the shifting of attention from person to person is 
 required by the central thought. See S. S. M., 178-189.— The 
 monkey is the deus ex machina, and — in effect — almost the cen- 
 tral person. Observe how, by realization of the scene at head- 
 quarters, the progress of the battle up to its decisive turn is 
 effectively described ; our interest of course is with our own army, 
 and our suspense is greatest in sharing the crisis with our own 
 commander. The change (par. 81) to Printz's viewpoint is 
 instinctive; we like to see the other side when it is getting 
 whipped. Further, the main dramatic activity is for the moment 
 that of the crumpled and disintegrating ranks of the defeated 
 army. Study the gradual swingback (pars. 82-83) to Coulter 
 and the American side, and so through 84-85 to the progress of 
 the plot again (the episode of the battle is largely an intensifying 
 incident). — Cf. the rapid movement of pars. 90-97 with the re- 
 tarded movement of 69-89. What reasons do you find for giving 
 the latter three times as much space as the former? Is the battle 
 episode of intrinsic interest (S. S. M., 100:18-22, especially 22) 
 as well as of plot interest? Is the result of the battle sufficiently 
 important toward preserving the sense of importance in the plot 
 to warrant the retarded, or amplified, treatment (cf. note on par. 
 17) ? Is the retarded movement helpful towai'd creating an 
 impression of lapse of time? On the other hand, is the return of 
 the general of great atmosphex'ic, suspense or interest value, or
 
 His Bubble Reputation 307 
 
 Y5. And again the tense, whispering silence of the 
 pines, accentuated by the swirling roar of the guns where 
 they broke out into full-voiced chorus. 
 
 76. It was Coulter who, pale, stern, even-eyed, sat his 
 horse among the Staff while three Corps-Commanders 
 raged about him. It was he, too, who gave the famous 
 answer that went ringing into history. 
 
 77. " The artillery is overmatched. General Coulter. 
 The enemy means to break through our center by Weston 
 Hill," an aide, reining in a foaming horse, had said. 
 
 78. " Then, sir, we will give them what we have today. 
 There will be no tomorrow." 
 
 is it merely a detail necessary for the continuity of the narrative ? 
 — About plot management : Does the plot inescapably require the 
 absence of Ware during the battle? Why was not a separate 
 movement devoted to him and his disappearance before the ac- 
 count of the battle? Would the details of this incident have 
 been relatively significant enough to the establishment of the 
 motif and theme to justify their presentation at length (i.e., are 
 details needed) ? Would our understanding of the situation dur- 
 ing the battle — his absence and Coulter's assumption of command 
 — have been clearer if, following par. 55 or 68 (or somewhere 
 between) a brief paragraph had been inserted, giving the facts 
 that are put by the author in pars. 99-104? — For the moment, 
 regard par. 89 as the last paragraph of the story. Evidently it 
 would be an excellent telescoped ending (S. S. M., 115-119) for 
 a story that centered in the battle interest. What would be 
 necessary, however, by way of recast to turn this story into a 
 battle stoi-y? It can readily be done by omitting the spy incident 
 and closing with par. 89; practically no other reconstruction is 
 needed, for the references to the monkey can stand as mere 
 picturesque detail. This fact offers good opportunity for study 
 of the functioiTof plot incident (S. S. M., 107 ff.). The incident 
 of the spy is plot incident for the story as it stands, but would 
 be irrelevant in the mere battle story — this showing how introduc- 
 tion or omission of essential incidents changes outcome, purpose, 
 and effects
 
 308 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 79. Long afterward, men looking back upon those next 
 few moments told each his own tale, for no two men saw 
 the same. It was a maze to Coulter, who was fighting two 
 fights — his own and his General's — for Ware had not 
 returned and Coulter realized well enough that should his 
 absence become known twenty incompetent hands would 
 be stretched out for the reins. The best that he could do 
 was to remain silent ; for after all, once the men were com- 
 mitted to the fight, it was a soldier's battle. 
 
 80. So he sat, grim-faced and silent, while his divi- 
 sions pushed forward in long lines of cheering, brown-clad 
 men. So he sat and watched that slow but never-ceasing 
 advance of the enemy; the awful moment when two hun- 
 dred guns opened upon him from Halidon Hill and the 
 consequent lull when Printz found that gap in the Ameri- 
 can line and pushed into it with all the force that he could 
 gather; and finally that short but heaven-rocking moment 
 when the whole line of the enemy, blinded and bewildered, 
 shrank back under the furious fervor of the newly awak- 
 ened fight at center. 
 
 81. Printz saw the repulse from where he sat his horse 
 among the batteries on Halidon Hill. He saw the long 
 lines of his matchless infantry move slowly to the advance ; 
 saw the attack quicken ; saw the American center burst 
 into an unsuspected crater of fire and saw his long lines 
 strain back. Then he heard the renewed roar of the guns 
 and marked the rush of Weston's squadrons upon his 
 right. It was the moment for the counter-stroke and he 
 bent to the shock. 
 
 82. There was no withstanding that counter-stroke. It 
 was delivered^ not when the text-books say it should be
 
 His Bubble Reputation" 309 
 
 delivered, at the moment of recoil, but at the moment 
 when success seemed assured to I'Armee Internationale, 
 when all of its powers were keyed up to success. Printz 
 felt rather than saw the two dangerous nippers, those far- 
 reaching flanks of Coulter's, swing around upon his own 
 flanks while the charge of the American center was pushed 
 home squarely in his face. 
 
 83. If there is in this world anything that is really 
 impossible it is to hold and reform broken and defeated 
 troops in the face of a victorious foe who means to take 
 toll of them. From his position in rear of his center, 
 General Coulter issued the orders for a pursuit that should 
 push Printz beyond the verge of exhaustion. Few orders 
 were required, for every man realized that the moment 
 was at last come when victory hung poised above the eagles 
 of the Republic. 
 
 84. Coulter eyed his advancing columns, watched his 
 reserve guns go past in all the maddening thunder of an 
 advance by battalion and noted the quick swirl of red dust 
 where Weston's cavalry was going in. 
 
 85. " If only Ware could have been here to see it ! " he 
 muttered. His regret was but half-spoken. There was no 
 time to wait even for news of his missing chief, for he 
 meant that those retreating blue columns should be pushed 
 back to the very shores of the Great Lake that gleamed 
 dully like a naked sword under the heavy skies to the 
 northwest. 
 
 86. Where could Ware be ? What could have delayed 
 him? What could have happened to deprive the vic- 
 torious army this day of the leadership of the wonderful 
 brain that had planned this mighty conflict ? 
 
 87. So all day long the enemy rolled along through the
 
 310 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 knee-deep mud of the sodden roads — for the after-the- 
 battle rains had set in — and from every height Coulter's 
 shells searched out their retreating columns. Bridges 
 were destroyed by Weston's indefatigable squadrons; 
 wagons broke down and jammed the roads and through 
 them all sifted the ruck of the disheartened infantry, a 
 veritable babel of tongues, shrill-accented, self-seeking, 
 flinging their arms aside in heading flight. 
 
 88. Coulter kept his place till late in the day, receiving 
 the reports from the pursuing columns. It was nearly 
 dusk when he shut up his glasses and turned to an aide. 
 
 89. " It is all over, sir. Wire General Acton to con- 
 centrate at Tioga for the pursuit " 
 
 90. He stopped short in his surprise at the sight of a 
 soiled and stained figure that was slowly and painfully 
 stumbling up the rear slope of the hill. Coulter sprang 
 from his horse, ran forward and passed his arm about the 
 shoulders of General Ware. 
 
 91. "General — General!" he almost shouted. "This 
 is the best news of the day. A little brandy, quickly. 
 Major Fosdick — and a blanket. What is it, sir ? " 
 
 91-122. The fourth and last movement begins at 91 (or 98). 
 Pars. 91-122 gradually lead toward and prepare us for the disclo- 
 sure of the decisive act ; cf . note on par. 61. The reader now senses 
 fully that he is approaching the explanation, and feels the sus- 
 pense of anticipatory delay (see S. S. M., 75, n. 2). Observe how, 
 in this falling action, suspense is conserved, especially in the 
 distributed detail concerning Ware's absence and mishap, mingled 
 with passages of dialogue all pointing clearly to coming explana- 
 tion of the events now past. — According to definition, the falling 
 action (in the plot sense) began with the decisive moment (n. on 
 par. 61) ; but with the surprise effect in mind, the author con- 
 cealed the significance of this incident (S. S. M,, 39-40; 117:5). 
 On. continuance of the struggle after the decisive moment, with
 
 His Bubble Reputation 311 
 
 92. Thej hastily made room, spreading a saddle-blanket 
 beneath a bush and watched the shaken Commander- 
 in-Chief as he gulped greedily at the proffered cup. 
 His eyes were deep-sunken and his face was badly 
 bruised. About his head he wore a blood-stained bandage 
 that had been improvised from several first-aid 
 packets. 
 
 93. " What has happened, Coulter ? " 
 
 94. Coulter's voice betrayed his triumph. 
 
 95. " It is most unfortunate, sir, that you could not 
 have been here to see the fulfilment of your plans. We 
 are driving them in headlong rout " 
 
 96. " Then Hopkins succeeded in turning them as I 
 had planned. Printz was in error then and I was right ! 
 I would have staked my reputation on it. I did stake my 
 reputation on it. Coulter. It had to be " 
 
 97. For answer Coulter motioned to the staff to with- 
 draw and leaned forward across the blanket. 
 
 98. " JSTo, General, Hopkins did not turn them. It 
 
 accompanying rise in interest, see S. S. M., 93 : 4-5 and footnote 
 9 ; ef . S. S. M., 119 £f. A review of the sections on rising action 
 and falling action is advisable. See also S. S. M., 154 : 7 and 
 n. 14. — The present story affords an excellent illustration of com- 
 plexly related facts presented strictly in the chronological order 
 (S. S. M., 151-157). Everything is placed in the strict order of 
 its happening, with one exception : the accident to Ware is not 
 told at the time of its happening, but is narrated episodically at 
 the time of his return. But even this is scarcely a departure 
 from the strict time order, for his absence is noted when it 
 occurred, and the explanation of it is made at that point in the 
 story where it would come in fact — on his return. 
 
 98-99. Observe the means employed to stimulate suspense. As 
 any story approaches its close, the accumulated mterest of plot 
 and action should carry it forward ; yet these may easily drop off,
 
 312 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 was your change in the plans at the last moment that won 
 the day. It was the rearrangement of troops that did it, 
 sir. It was absolutely the most masterly thing I have ever 
 seen." 
 
 99. ''Change of plans? What change of plans? Re- 
 distribution of troops ? I made none, sir. I left orders, 
 strict orders, sir, for General Hopkins to make a turn- 
 ing movement and now you tell me that he did not 
 do it ! When I left you I rode to McCann's 
 
 and — " his voice trailed off weakly " I — think 
 
 — my — horse — must — have — fallen. What has — taken 
 place ? " 
 
 100. " Can you walk as far as the tent, sir? " 
 
 101. Ware nodded and, with his elbow in the grip of 
 his Chief of Staff, stumbled heavily into the big tent, 
 where he fairly fell into the chair that a clerk pulled 
 forward for him. His brain was in a whirl. His voice 
 was little more than a whisper that sounded in his own 
 ears like the far-off rush of heavy seas. 
 
 102. " I — left — you — and went to — McCann's. I left 
 him at four-thirty and — I remember riding through — a 
 piece — of woods " 
 
 103. His voice sank to an inarticulate murmur. The 
 waiting orderly spoke. 
 
 104. " Sir, de Gin'ral done had a turrible fall. His 
 hawse fell ober a root an' when I come along behin' him 
 through de neck o' woods by Gin'ral McCann's place I 
 done foun' him wid de hawse piled on him and de hawse 
 
 and a skillful introduction and management of the materials at 
 this stage is therefore important. They must be kept down to 
 the fewest possible, but so handled as to sustain fully the sense 
 of dramatic situation.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 313 
 
 had his back broke. De Gin'ral looked laik he was some 
 shook up." 
 
 105. General Ware nodded acquiescence. 
 
 106. " He brought me here," he said slowly. 
 
 107. " The map, Coulter, the map ! " 
 
 108. Coulter drew the table nearer and traced the line 
 of the fight exactly as one traces the lines of a picture for 
 a child. 
 
 109. " It was here that you placed Atwood, Gates, and 
 Holton with the artillery to hold them in check on the 
 right." His finger traced the blue squares of the divi- 
 sions. " Here is Hopkins, you remember, sir, in column 
 
 of route to the left. Here " his finger hung poised 
 
 for a moment — " was the gap that I mentioned ; the gap 
 in our line that I feared would prove the heel of Achilles 
 if the enemy should find it " 
 
 110. Ware nodded silently. 
 
 111. " And they did find it and they pushed into 
 
 it with all their force. Then Hopkins swung to the right 
 and Gates and Atwood to their left and in front " 
 
 112. " Yes! Yes! In front we had nothing; nothing, 
 sir. What could you do in their front ? " 
 
 113. " In front, sir, we held them in the grip of fate 
 with these four divisions." 
 
 109-112. Par. 109 carries us back to par. 49 and pars. 43-44. 
 These gave us the necessary comprehension of the general position 
 of our armies. But they did not give us so clear an outline that 
 we could sketch the positions — they did not need to. But io 
 the explanation now to come, we need this more definite outline. 
 Note how adequately it is given in the brief dialogue of pars. 
 111-112. 
 
 113. Here probably begins the climactic height of the story ; for 
 by this time we realize that the big point in the whole impor-
 
 314 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 114. lie raised his hand from the map, disclosing, 
 squarely in the gap, deftly hidden among the well-wooded 
 slopes of the Spruce Ridge, four oblong blue stamps in- 
 dicative of four full divisions — forty thousand men. 
 
 115. " These are exactly where you placed them last 
 night, sir, after I left you and went to my tent " 
 
 116. "I never placed those men there! " 
 
 117. General Ware sprang from his seat, reeled, and 
 tottered against the flimsy table. 
 
 118. "I never placed them there. Coulter." 
 
 119. Politely incredulous. Coulter stared at him. 
 
 120. " Of course you did, sir. You forget. Your ac- 
 cident has doubtless confused you. Who else could have 
 done it ? I would never have done it without your ap- 
 proval. Who else could possibly have placed those divi- 
 sions so accurately in the one place where they were so 
 vitally important ? " 
 
 121. " Count your troops," said Ware hoarsely. " Check 
 over the number of your divisions that you have stamped 
 on the map." 
 
 122. " I have done so, sir. The list is correct. You 
 see, when I returned to this tent after your departure, I 
 saw those stamp-marks on the map. Of course, I thought 
 that you had done it at the last moment and that you were 
 leaving the details for me to work out after you had left, 
 
 tant situation is, how was victory instead of defeat secured to 
 the American armies? — In the pars, that follow, note how our 
 interest (curiosity) is constantly pricked in the midst of retarded 
 movement; see on accelerated and retarded movement, Genung, 
 Prac. Els. of Rhetoric or Working Prins. of Rhet. Note that in 
 dramatic forms of writing, the development of an incident by 
 means of retarded movement involves also the building up of 
 a climax.
 
 His Bubble Reputation 315 
 
 so I took two divisions from Hopkins and two from the 
 right flank and put them in as was indicated on the map, 
 where I thought you wanted them — in the gap, hidden in 
 the woods." 
 
 123. " Printz's dossier was all wrong," said Ware, still 
 dwelling insistently on what seemed the important point. 
 " He thought I dared not take a chance. I did not do this 
 though. Coulter. I'd give my new-made reputation to 
 know who did it. Why, man, it is genius. No less ! I 
 cannot imagine how those divisions came there. I never 
 did it. Give me the stamp and the ink-pad." 
 
 124. Coulter opened the stamp-box and sought the 
 oblong rubber stamp that General Ware had used. It was 
 gone. He looked under the table, on the cot, on the grass, 
 but found nothing. Toto, disturbed in his warm blankets 
 by the raised voices, raved and chattered and sprang to 
 Coulter's shoulder, grasping his neck with one little paw 
 while he picked and pulled with the other at the collar of 
 the coat. 
 
 124-127. Re-enter Toto, the deus ex machina, or more properly, 
 the deciding actor in the plot. Consider the finely considered 
 motivation represented by the monkey as an actor — the fondness 
 of soldiers in the field or camp for animal pets, and the extremely 
 imitative nature of monkeys — unobtrusively brought to our atten- 
 tion (if we are given to thinking) by the fact that Toto " stamped 
 viciously with it upon the very spot from which Ware raised his 
 hand " after making just such a movement himself. We now 
 remember Toto's restlessness, the two instances on the preceding 
 night when he saw his master and the spy going through this 
 stamping motion (he had seen Ware do it often, no doubt), the 
 spy's impatient flinging of the stamp at him before slipping out 
 of the tent. All these things, in view of monkey nature, make 
 his imitation of them the most natural of behavior. All this is
 
 316 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 125. General Ware sat back. 
 
 126. " Throw that beast out, Coulter. This is serious. 
 Throw it out, I say ! " 
 
 127. He slammed his heavy fist down upon the table. 
 As if at a signal, Toto sprang from Coulter's shoulder, 
 leaped across the board, seized something from his mouth 
 and stamped viciously with it upon the very spot from 
 which Ware had raised his hand. Coulter grasped him, 
 pried open the grinning jaws and pulled from him — the 
 missing division stamp ! 
 
 128. A long silence fell. 
 
 129. "It isn't humanly possible," said Ware 
 hoarsely. Coulter, purple in the face, answered noth- 
 ing. 
 
 130. " It isn't possible. Coulter ! Say something, man ! 
 What do you think ? " 
 
 131. " God knows, Who knows all things. We do 
 know that Printz was wrong " 
 
 132. " Printz was wrong. And so was I wrong." 
 
 133. There was a long pause. Ware broke it. 
 
 134. " It is true ! " he shouted. " It is as true as 
 Gospel, Coulter. That is how those divisions came to be 
 placed in the gap ! That — I came near saying that con- 
 founded monkey. Coulter ! But he has saved the country 
 
 therefore rendered extremely plausible, for we know that mon- 
 keys thus imitate men continually. Mere accident, therefore, in 
 this element of chance already noted (n. on par. 41), is confined 
 to the fact that Toto happened to set his stamp just where he 
 did on the map. Pars. 128-131 recognize the weakness of the 
 plot in thus employing accident, but pars. 131-134 accept it and 
 through the convincingness of thoroughly natural dialogue make 
 it seem plausible to us. (On accident in motivation, S. S. M., 
 86 ff.).
 
 His Bubble Keputation 317 
 
 this day ! Doesn't that show that the age of miracles is 
 not yet past ? " 
 
 135. " Either that, sir, or " Coulter paused and 
 
 glanced quizzically at his Chief — " or else we have won 
 as we have won before in times past; by the imitative of 
 a monkey." 
 
 136. General Ware smiled wearily. 
 
 137. " It really doesn't matter how or why or by what 
 means we won. We did win and it is that that counts. 
 Wire Acton to keep them on the run as long as they keep 
 three men together." 
 
 138. He laid his head wearily upon his arms as 
 Coulter slowly dictated the message to a clerk, meanwhile 
 absent-mindedly stroking Toto, who, undisturbed by the 
 excitement, chewed away upon the rubber stamp. 
 
 135, Relaxes our tension by its introduction, along with the 
 serious thought, of a touch of humor through the pun — such 
 wabbly humor, by the way, as men just shaken by a teri'ifie expe- 
 rience are likely to perpetrate on the rebound. — Observe the 
 prompt closing when the explanation has been completed. Espe- 
 cially note that the closing words keep before us Toto, the deciding 
 actor in the events of the story, and the representative — by both 
 the author's choice and his own nature — of that element of chance 
 which it is the story's purpose to impress upon us.
 
 AN EPILOGUE 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " An Epilogue " is notable for (a) having as its cen- 
 tral person one who has been dead ten years; (b) ef- 
 fectively characterizing this person through dialogue on 
 the part of others, and that (moreover) with slight ref- 
 erence to actual deeds or behavior on the part of this cen- 
 tral person; (c) effectively individualizing and charac- 
 terizing an unusually large number of contributing per- 
 sons; (d) accomplishing (as a secondary result) social 
 characterization of a family and the particular society en- 
 vironment of this family (which is also a type) ; (e) mak- 
 ing us realize the tragic pathos attending the entire life 
 of the central person, misunderstood by most and incom- 
 pletely understood even by the few who were sjonpa- 
 thetically and kindly disposed; (f) thus arousing in us 
 a sense of the tragic pathos of life itself; (g) a remark- 
 able command of unusual and difficult materials, as evi- 
 denced in the method of presentation chosen and its 
 thorough success ; (h) an unirapassioned simplicity of nar- 
 rative presentation, free of straining for effect, that 
 trusts the facts themselves to make their impression (cf. 
 S. S. M., 190:3, 195:11). Other matters of note may 
 be found in the running comment. The impression noted 
 above in (e) and (f) are the object of the narrative, and 
 the final integration of the materials produces an atmos- 
 phere-character story. 
 
 2. The spiritual atmosphere is created by the many 
 revelations of inner character given by the numerous 
 
 318
 
 An Epilogue 319 
 
 flashes of characterization as the various persons play their 
 part in the action. 
 
 3. The framework of plot is slight. The generating 
 circumstance is the failure of the literary lioness to per- 
 form conversationally, thus producing the emergency ques- 
 tion of the managing daughter to the temperamental musi- 
 cian, and his reference to the wonderful voice of the young 
 girl who (he naturally supposes) will be a subject of inter- 
 est among her own household. The action from this point 
 on is almost wholly dialogue, in which person after per- 
 son, expressing his estimate of the dead girl, reveals his 
 blindness to her genius and true character; the action 
 grows spirited as the difference in point of view and dis- 
 position between the speakers develops, and it rises to its 
 height in the family scene at the close, when the speeches 
 and behavior of the members of the family remove any 
 doubt remaining in our mind of the truth of the musi- 
 cian's assertions and the tragedy lying beneath the facts. 
 Exact placing of the decisive moment in such an action is 
 difficult, but it comes in this final scene, and near the end 
 of it ; for the problem in the formal plot is, whether Mary- 
 Dora was or was not a pitiful tragic spirit isolated in a 
 dull, unsympathetic world, and the struggle is that of our 
 mind to reach conviction on this point. As complete con- 
 viction is reached only when the behavior of the family 
 itself shows what is the truth, the decisive moment comes 
 then. We note that it comes effectively at the end of the 
 narrative (S. S. M., 93 : 2-5, 117 : 4). 
 
 4. See S. S. M., 24: 1-2. This story is one of those in 
 which the action-plot is of small importance in itself, 
 existing merely to afford a framework — that is, to 
 " carry " — the other elements. What is meant when we
 
 320 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 thus speak of the plot as existing merely to carry the ef- 
 fective materials of the story will be more fully under- 
 stood if we consider what interests us in the present nar- 
 rative, and what ultimately impresses us. This is not the 
 dinner nor (in themselves) the people attending it, but 
 the personality of the dead girl and the contrasts and out- 
 come of the position in life which fate had given her. 
 The plot-action of the narrative is nothing but a device 
 through which to make us realize the basic situation, the 
 moving forces, the actors, incidents, and outcome of a 
 struggle, crisis, and catastrophe now many years past — 
 of a tragedy not directly recounted, but shadowed forth 
 by hint and inference, and left for complete reconstruc- 
 tion to our own intelligence and imagination. Cf. direct 
 plots such as those of " In the Matter of Distance." " The 
 Love of Men," '' A Rag-Time Lady," etc. In these, the 
 incidents and action of the plot themselves embody and 
 are the narrator's drama. In the one case, the incidents 
 and action of the plot themselves tell and are the story; 
 in the other, they merely suggest it. — Those who wish to 
 reflect more extensively on the philosophy of art can con- 
 sider here the general question, whether stories of the one 
 type or stories of the other are more likely to " reach " — 
 i.e., interest, be understood by and appeal to — the ordinary 
 reader. Are a more highly developed understanding, sen- 
 sibility, intellectual keenness, and artistic sympathy neces- 
 sary in order to read with appreciation work that is indi- 
 rectly suggestive, and only that, of its vital matter ? Which 
 type of presentation is better adapted to the active mind, 
 and which to the reflective mind? Which demands the 
 more leisure and contemplation for its appreciation ? If, 
 however, on considering this, one decides that there are
 
 An Epilogue 321 
 
 methods of artistic presentation suited primarily to read- 
 ers of an unusually delicate perceptive sense, or of a par- 
 ticular or specialized education or culture, he is still faced 
 with other important questions. Is there any essential 
 superiority in the art-products of the more recondite and 
 esoteric method? Are the impressions they make as im- 
 mediately strong as those made by products of the direct 
 method, or do they owe their strength to the reflection 
 they require ? Are these impressions as effectual ethically 
 — as likely to transform themselves into convictions and 
 exercise an influence on the reader's conduct of life ? Are 
 they as closely and as intimately associated with life as 
 it is, as unmistakably and stimulatively animated with 
 vital human spirit? Is not their ultimate effect that of 
 drawing off our thought to refinements and subtleties, at 
 the expense of sympathy with and appreciation of life in 
 its permanent, rugged — and sometimes brutal — essentials ? 
 Does not the translation of art into the realm of subtlety 
 and extreme refinement expose it to great danger of becom- 
 ing sophisticated, artificial, emasculate, and impotent? 
 May it not be true that the gradual decline in importance 
 of once-powerful magazines is traceable (in part at least, 
 or in some instances) to a spiritual enervation resulting 
 from the absence in their fiction of the cruder and more 
 substantial elements such as those that keep blood red and 
 mankind healthy, strong, energetic, and aggressive in 
 " real life ? " Though ability to understand and appre- 
 ciate a subtle, and even a " brahmanistic," interpretation 
 of life may be gratifying, is not ability to touch and enter 
 life directly through less subtle and more bold, or even 
 bald, presentations more satisfying to the individual and 
 more wholesome for society ? See S. S, M., 65 : 16-20.
 
 322 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 (The student is requested not to misapply these questions 
 by taking them as a comment upon the story before us. 
 Without great labor one can find, in the elite no less than 
 in the hoi polloi of our magazines, stories that are mere 
 piddling, mere artistic balderdash, mere piffling devotion 
 to " pure artistic form " and the proprieties of a papa- 
 potatoes-poultry-prunes-and-prisms standard of life — tales, 
 full of smooth sound and subtlety, signifying nothing — 
 mere Gratiano converse in fiction guise. But " An Epi- 
 logue " is not one of them, though the artistry of it is as 
 their artistry.) 
 
 5. See S. S. M., 80 : 4-7. In this story, not only the 
 exposition strictly so called, but indeed all the materials, 
 are presented mainly by the distributive and cumulative- 
 effect plan. In development, this story is not a progres- 
 sive march from a beginning point to an end (which is the 
 commoner form), but a gradual unfolding of the facts 
 until they become completely visible. It may be com- 
 pared to the unfolding of a bud until the blossom becomes 
 revealed in its entirety — including the blight at the center. 
 Insomuch as there is not, in the usual sense, progressive 
 advance from plot incident to plot incident, but merely 
 this gradual unfolding of this past situation as a whole, 
 we may say that the development is static instead of 
 dynamic, or progressive. This is the result of employ- 
 ing the distributive method so largely — or contrari- 
 wise, the distributive method is made necessary by the 
 static development. The student will observe that the in- 
 troduction of the more important facts under this method, 
 although appearing casual and almost chance, is neverthe- 
 less calculated and managed with care, essential " points " 
 being prepared for before they are made, and then em-
 
 An Epilogue 323 
 
 phasized. The cumulative effect upon the reader of these 
 successive disclosures and impressions is the means by 
 which the presentation works its final, total effect. It will 
 be worth while to go through the story several times, 
 studying the workings of this method as it is employed 
 in (a) characterization, (b) atmosphere creation, (c) dis- 
 closure of the long-past basic situation, and (d) disclo- 
 sure of the plot-elements belonging to this basic situation. 
 (Note : There is, however, progressive action in the carry- 
 ing-plot, considered merely by itself; see par. 220.)
 
 AN EPILOGUE 
 By Gertrude Hall 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from " The 
 
 Century," June, 1!)15. 
 
 (Copyright, 1915.) 
 
 1. And then a good many years after the story was 
 ended, so far as it affected the little heroine, certain of 
 the secondary characters, having built an addition to their 
 city house, decided to give an entertainment that would 
 at once bring into use the new music-room and afford the 
 public an opportunity to admire it. 
 
 2. The Rev. Andrew DeJames, new rector of Saint 
 John's, was interested in a children's hospital. Miss 
 Adeline Villars was interested in the new rector. That 
 gave, perhaps, the starting-point for the grand affair at 
 the Villarses. But JMrs. Villars and Miss Sally Villars, 
 when they readily fell in with the idea, had in eye advan- 
 tages to themselves as well. Sally, the smart one,^ thought 
 the thing out and organized it. 
 
 1. A profitable beginning to study. Note (a) indication of the 
 time of the story and the time of the telling; (b) characterizing 
 force of "the little heroine"; (c) pi-eparation to introduce the 
 secondary persons by means of whom the facts of the long-past 
 history must be got before us; (d) the carefully indicated char- 
 acterization of the most significant of these secondary persons in 
 the report of their decision and its motive (they have risen in 
 the world, and wish to make display). This characterization is 
 swiftly and meaningly amplified in par. 2. 
 
 2. ' A detail of personal differentiation. The phrase is common 
 "with folk in discussions of their neighbors, and hence it has 
 
 334
 
 An Epilogue 325 
 
 3. The music-room would seat three hundred. What 
 would draw so many people at five dollars a head? Who 
 would do something really attractive for nothing in aid 
 of the children's hospital? Sally answered the question 
 after some searching: Mrs. Julia Gastonbury — the philan- 
 thropically minded Mrs. Gastonbury, whose latest book, 
 " Dead Works," after a silence of years, had made a deep 
 impression. Would anybody not cheerfully pay five dol- 
 lars to hear her read in old age from the works that had 
 thrilled their youth? Had anybody a soul so dead he 
 would not come through wind and rain to pay tribute to 
 the author of the novel that had drawn the young tears 
 from their eyes, " Simple Margaret ? " And " The Cot- 
 tagers of Hebron Hill" and "Sylvia" and "A Dear 
 Enemy " and " Miss Dove ! " 
 
 4. The papers announced that tickets for the occasion 
 could be obtained at the parish-house of Saint John's 
 Church or at Priestley's, the music-store. 
 
 5. It was from the newspaper that Miss Cornelia 
 Blodgett learned of the entertainment. She had not 
 
 power to connote more than it denotes ; we learn through it about 
 the whole family, because we know how much it means from 
 hearmg it about other families. It especially puts the " smart " 
 and managing Sally before us, and later Sally will stand in 
 sharp contrast with the little heroine. 
 
 3. The author here begins to motive the carrying action (introd. 
 n. 4). Mrs. Gastonbury is the lioness whose failure to roar 
 precipitates the disclosure of the heroine's life with these people. 
 At the same time, the details are made to contribute characteriza- 
 tion of the Villarses, and to have something of the effect besides 
 of a passing incident of social characterization. Note underlying 
 the details the continued presentation of Sally. 
 
 4-5. These motive the attendance of Miss Blodgett, who turns 
 out to be an important secondary person. As in the other instances 
 so far noted, the introduction of the person is accompanied with
 
 326 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 changed iiiiich in the ten years. She was faded and lined, 
 bnt her yonthfnlness of ontlook she wonld retain while 
 she had eyes to look out of. She was in town on a visit 
 to her old friend, ]\Irs. Jane Banks. Cornelia had been 
 thinking she must make Jane a present before parting to 
 express appreciation of her hospitality. It seemed to her 
 now that to take her to hear Mrs. Gastonbury would meet 
 that delicate obligation better than the gift of a fleecy 
 cardigan jacket, while, for her own part, the thought of 
 seeing the inside of the Villars mansion thrilled her. She 
 spent her ten dollars, which looked almost as big to her 
 as the whole amount that the reading was purposed to 
 raise. Miss Cornelia had in her nature something of the 
 poet. 
 
 6. During the two weeks intervening, Jane and she 
 re-read " Simple Margaret," and made themselves ac- 
 quainted with " Dead Works." 
 
 7. They had understood from a hint given in fine en- 
 
 characterization. Observe the method : indication of her way 
 of regarding and preparing for the entertainment. Given also 
 a sufficient knowledge of village society, we can, through these 
 details, realize her for ourselves as poor, proper, polite, good- 
 hearted, and a member of the staid democracy of some village. 
 Mrs. Banks represents the corresponding rank of city dwellers, 
 and they two are opposed to the Villarses and the Villarses' com- 
 pany of guests (4-14 and in part farther). Our attention is kept 
 on Miss Blodgett (and incidentally, Mrs. Banks). One reason 
 is, that they represent something of the earlier social status of 
 the Villarses, and the present and past contrast, aided by their 
 comment, aids us in understanding the Villarses as they are, and 
 estimating them in perspective with their past. Further, Miss 
 Blodgett and Mrs. Banks are contrast-foils for the guests as well 
 as for the Villarses. Another reason is, that the permanent 
 point of view and the character of Miss Blodgett must be felt 
 by us, because we are going to see and hear a good deal of the
 
 An Epilogue 327 
 
 graving at the bottom of their cards that they must array 
 themselves in their best. Mrs. Banks, having sleeked her 
 hair till it shone like bands of silver satin, put on a black 
 stuff of the most decent, clasping her collar with a cameo 
 of great size, carved to represent a landscape, with house 
 and tree against a dun-colored sky. To the gift of the 
 ticket Cornelia had added the pleasant attention of a pair 
 of gray silk gloves. At her suggestion Mrs. Banks fur- 
 ther decorated her person with the little badge of a Daugh- 
 ter of the American Revolution. 
 
 8. Cornelia's elegance was of a more light-minded sort, 
 as her appearance was also lighter, sprightlier than Jane's. 
 She wore her black silk. Her collar was lace, fastened 
 with a brooch of which she was justly vain, for it was 
 wrought of three colors, the greenish, the reddish, and the 
 yellow gold. She crimped her hair. Over her shoulders 
 she laid, triangularly folded, the white embroidered India 
 shawl, with swinging silk fringes, gift long ago of sea- 
 captain Nathan Blodgett, her father. Over her knuckles 
 she drew the white kid gloves which she knew to be the 
 proper evening wear. 
 
 succeeding events through Miss Blodgett's eyes and ears; the 
 author virtually makes her our agent to attend the dinner and, 
 from an observer's position, listen for us as the main facts of 
 the past gradually discover themselves. (N.B. An interesting 
 variation of the angle of narration is here employed ; the nar- 
 rative is told as by a third person, completely outside the events, 
 yet we are made to feel it a good deal from the point of view of 
 participants. See S. S. M., 138 : 3 and 143 : 13.)— Incidentally, 
 various details mentioned by the author, or for her by Miss 
 Blodgett, help to particularize and establish our realization of 
 the Villarses in their present prosperous and climbing existence, 
 and at the same time to afford setting and atmosphere material. 
 The management is exceedingly skillful.
 
 328 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 9. The house could be told from a distance as the scat 
 of some festivity. All its lower windows shone through 
 their lace shades, an awning sheltered its steps, a crimson 
 carpet extended from its threshold to the edge of the side- 
 walk, where vehicles were stopping. 
 
 10. The clear March night was cold, but a fever of 
 expectation warmed Miss Cornelia through and through. 
 Her eyes, when they entered the door, were widened to 
 take in everything, till they were starry in their luminous 
 stare. With the outside of the Villars house she was fa- 
 miliar, and with such scraps of the interior as could be 
 seen by a passer in the street. When with a small group 
 of others they came within the enchanted portals, her ex- 
 citement overflowed in whispers to Jane. 
 
 11. " Look ! There, Jane ! Look ! That must be the 
 copy of the Paul Veronese she ^ told me was bought abroad, 
 and that she said hung in the hall." 
 
 12. At sight of the great green-and-white drawing-room, 
 which had many laurel wreaths worked into its decora- 
 tion, she clutched Jane's arm, radiant. 
 
 13. " This is the room that's all First Empire — the 
 Emperor Kapoleon's time, you know, Jane. Some of the 
 pieces of furniture, she told me, belonged in his own pal- 
 ace at Paris, and some of the china in the cabinets was 
 his wife Josephine's. 
 
 11. ' The first direct reference, outside of par. 1, to the past 
 situation on which the story turns. The approach to this situation 
 is, in the present story, made very leisurely. A second reference 
 ("in her day") occurs in par, 14; after that their number soon 
 centers our expectation on some coming disclosure. This leisurely 
 movement is, however, well suited to all the story, which is not 
 one of rapid action, but of spiritual revelation, requiring gradual 
 apprehension and comprehension by the reader.
 
 An Epilogue 329 
 
 14. " I don't know anything about this," she spoke, 
 astonished, as they entered the new music-room, the brown 
 baronial hall, fifty feet by thirty, now full of folding- 
 chairs placed in regular lines along an aisle that ended at 
 a platform with a chair on it, a table, a vase of white roses, 
 and a glass of water. " I guess this wasn't here in her 
 day, Jane. Isn't it grand ! How is it lighted — so bright 
 and yet so soft ? I guess there's electricity all along behind 
 that molding." 
 
 15. They took seats, modestly, not too far forward, 
 though they had come early, and while the hall was filling, 
 Cornelia chattered. " There's a Dutch room up-stairs, and 
 a Japanese room where they take tea every afternoon. In 
 the dining-room they've got a portrait of George Wash- 
 ington that they say he sat for himself. There was no 
 end to the things she had to tell us about it all after she 
 came home. AYish I knew where to look for her step- 
 mother and for Miss Adeline and Miss Sally that she 
 talked so much about. But I don't suppose I could tell 
 them if I saw them. Mr. Peter Yillars I should know, 
 naturally. Perhaps we can find him afterwards, before 
 we go." 
 
 16. Shortly she forgot all that. Mrs. Gastonbury read 
 the most characteristic and touching chapters from " Sim- 
 ple Margaret," the part where simple Margaret goes to the 
 unknown city to try to save her son from evil compan- 
 ions ; then the most humorous portions from " The Cot- 
 tagers of Hebron Hill," the petty quarrels of the married 
 women; finally the most solemn and searching passages 
 from " Dead Works," the passages that forced you to turn 
 your gaze inward and reflect. Miss Cornelia furtively 
 dried her eyes. The sense of her faults and failures was
 
 330 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 not stronger than the sense aroused by the reader's words 
 of her own neglected and buried goodness. In the emo- 
 tion of that state she saw pathetically for a moment the 
 one who had told her so much about this house and its 
 owners, and whose image had been floating in her memory 
 ever since she approached its door. 
 
 17. She brought back her attention sharply to the read- 
 ing. The extravagance of wasting one syllable of the 
 costly treat ! But with the recovery of the point of view 
 from lofty peaks consequent upon listening to Mrs. Gas- 
 tonbury, Cornelia's mind diverged once more, and turned 
 to consider the aspect of things by the new spiritual light 
 vouchsafed her. All the material splendor around her, in 
 which she honestly delighted, was it right to love it? 
 Could it do much, after all, for the soul's peace and 
 progress ? Was the master of this house, for instance, any 
 happier in his second marriage with a woman of great 
 wealth than in the old days when, young and poor and 
 hard-working, — but so cheerful and hopeful, dear Mr. 
 Peter ! — he and his young wife used to come out into the 
 country on a Sunday to see their little girl, put to board 
 with plain, old-fashioned folks, good as anybody, but hav- 
 ing no pretensions to style or tone — herself, in fact, Cor- 
 nelia, and her sister Clementine ? 
 
 17-18. See S. S. M., 32 : 16-22, on theme. The present story 
 well iUustrates the text ; it presents no theme ; yet upon considera- 
 tion we can without difficulty formulate a conclusion about life 
 that will sum up, on the intellectual side, the meaning of the situa- 
 tion it pi'esents. In pars. 17-18 we have directly propounded 
 a sub-theme, or incidental comment on life. (The question pro- 
 pounded will be found answered in the paragraphs presenting 
 Mr. Peter Villars; this showing the ability of the short story 
 to incorporate materials that subordinately and incidentally are 
 motivated by purpose. S. S. M., 27:4-13, especially 12 and 13.)
 
 An Epilogue 331 
 
 18. Any happier ? Was he as happy ? It was grand, 
 no two ways about it, for him to be so rich as he had be- 
 come; but 
 
 19. Cornelia held in, to remind herself that one should 
 be slow to judge one's neighbor, then went boldly ahead : 
 But if the second Mrs. Villars had been quite the right 
 sort of woman, the woman to make a good man happy, 
 wouldn't she have wanted to take her husband's child to 
 live with them, and have tried to be a mother to her ? In- 
 stead of which 
 
 20. Cornelia was startled by a noise. What? It was 
 all over ? N"©, thank the stars ! There was going to be 
 an encore. 
 
 21. To the prolonged applause Mrs. Gastonbury re- 
 sponded by adding to the program a sonnet. As this was 
 abtruse and difficult to grasp, the public was satisfied to 
 ask no more. Mrs. Gastonbury stepped off her platform 
 and was surrounded. 
 
 22. Everybody rose. A buzz of talk succeeded the re- 
 spectful hush. 
 
 23. The general movement was toward the door. 
 
 24. " I suppose we ought to be going," said Cornelia, 
 regretfully ; " but I don't feel as if I could go without 
 saying a word to Mr. Peter Villars. And I would dearly 
 
 19, An instance of the introduction by the distributive method 
 of essential expository and plot detail belonging to the basic situa- 
 tion (cf. introd. n. 5). 
 
 24. Here and throughout observe the naturalness and indi- 
 viduality of the speeches. Observe their adaptedness to the persons 
 making them (i.e., characterizing effectiveness). The dialogue of 
 Sally and of Olivieri, with that of Miss Blodgett, is particularly 
 worth study, although the speeches of all the persons have care- 
 fully been made significant.
 
 332 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 love to shako hands with ^frs. Gastonbury, wouldn't you, 
 Jane? And tell her how much we think of her books. 
 But I suppose we shall have to go without. I don't seem 
 to see him anywheres — Jane, there he is ! That's him ! 
 Mr. Villars! Mr. Villars!" She waved her program a 
 little madly. 
 
 25. He was at her side at once, with, for the fraction 
 of a minute, an inquiring, an unacquainted look. Then, 
 " Why, Miss Cornelia ! " he exclaimed, and grasped both 
 her hands. She was almost jumping up and down with 
 delight. 
 
 26. " Yes, it's me, Mr. Villars. And this is my friend 
 Mrs. Banks." 
 
 27. " Mrs. Banks. And if this isn't Miss Cornelia 
 Blodgett ! Miss Cornelia, there's no one in the world I 
 could be so glad to see. And when did you come to town ? 
 And where are you staying? And how is Miss Clemen- 
 tine, dear Miss Clementine ? " 
 
 28. " Sister's all right, or I shouldn't be here. 
 Won't she be interested when I tell her I've seen 
 you ! " 
 
 29. " And how's the museum ? And how's Bos'on ? " 
 
 30. " You're thinking of too long ago, Mr. Villars. 
 Bos'on was already an old dog last time you were at Wil- 
 low Creek, and that's a full ten years." 
 
 31. A look of trouble came over Villars' face, and was 
 
 27. Just what is it in this first speech from Mr. Villars that 
 makes us feel a little uncertain about him? Is it a shade too 
 voluble (of its sincerity there is, I think, no doubt) ? What if any- 
 thing is later disclosed about him and his habits that might 
 account for his greeting being slightly off tone? Cf. (with others) 
 pars. 35, 204, 220-221. 
 
 30. Another casual disclosure of informing detail.
 
 An Epilogue 333 
 
 reflected by ]\liss Cornelia's, mixed in this sensitive mirror 
 with a yearning sympathy, and shame at her tactlessness. 
 There was a silence, lasting only a few seconds, before Vil- 
 lars made it obvious by his gesture that he refused to think 
 of the past. 
 
 32. " How have you enjoyed the evening ? " he asked 
 heartily. 
 
 33. "Words fail me, Mr. Villars. Jane, too. We 
 
 think Mrs. Gastonbury is the greatest — the grandest 
 
 We're proud to be here. We shall go home and talk about 
 it and talk about it. I suppose we ought to be starting 
 now. Most everybody's gone." 
 
 34. " Oh, but I'm not going to let you go. Don't sup- 
 pose it. Why, I've only just found you. 
 
 East and west, 
 Old friends are best ! 
 
 I want you to see my son; he's on from college for the 
 occasion. Perhaps you'll enjoy what's coming. A few 
 of the audience are asked to stay after the others and have 
 supper with the celebrity. I want you to stay and be my 
 special part of the treat. Don't say a word. Miss Cor- 
 nelia ; you've got to please me in this. Wait a minute. 
 I'm going to find John and bring him up to meet you." 
 
 35. " He's just the same as he used to be," said Miss 
 Cornelia, openly affectionate, as he departed, with a cer- 
 tain care in his speed, over the slippery floor. And so 
 he was, in a way. If an image representing Eternal 
 Youth should be exposed to the vicissitudes of time and 
 
 31. A hint, obscure but stimulatins:, of something: interesting 
 to come as the story develops. Fore-hints are useful in maintain- 
 ing and creating suspense. 
 
 35. Study the effective placing of this passage of description. —
 
 334 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 \veathoT, and become a little battered with wear, have its 
 hair blanch, its skin loosen, its nose redden, its form swell, 
 and its beard grow, it might be suggestive of Mr. Peter 
 Villars, aged fifty-two, as Miss Cornelia saw him that 
 evening. lie wore his hair like an artist,^ a bang parted 
 in the middle, a beard cut to a point, though for many 
 years now ho had been a merchant. 
 
 36. '^ Should you like to stay, Jane ? I think it would 
 be real nice," said Miss Cornelia, suppressing her joy as 
 much as she could, so as not too palpably to influence her 
 friend's answer. 
 
 37. '' I'm willing to stay," said Jane. Jane Banks did 
 not cheapen herself by saying she did not think her ap- 
 parel sufficiently fine for the occasion. It was her best. 
 In her placid and pleasant face, the set of her jaw, the 
 lines of her large, good-tempered mouth, firmly closed 
 over porcelain teeth, was expressed a quiet consciousness 
 of the stock she came from, which she would have deemed 
 it treason and disgrace to think inferior to anybody. 
 
 38. Peter Villars came, bringing along, by an arm 
 passed fondly through his, a small blond youth, whose 
 chief likeness to his father lay in an immediate effect of 
 accessibility. 
 
 39. " Yes, you must stay ; we won't let you go," he 
 supported his father's invitation to the ladies as soon as 
 he had been presented. 
 
 ^ Apparently a mere descriptive fact, but later found to be sig- 
 nificant (par. 220). In masterly art, much of the fine effective- 
 ness of the completed work is the result of close relationship ulti- 
 mately discovered between remote and seemingly trivial details. 
 37. We must keep in mind that Jane and Cornelia are contrast 
 foils, in their character and point of view, for the other two 
 person-groups — the Villarses and the guests.
 
 An Epilogue 335 
 
 40. " We'll take care of you," Peter met protestations 
 that had not been voiced and a shyness that had not been 
 expressed ; " John and I'll take care of you." 
 
 41. Each offered an arm to one of the ladies. 
 
 42. The dining-room seemed at first glance, while so 
 many were standing, very full of people; full of colors 
 and white shoulders and broadcloth backs; full of glitter 
 and chatter; full, as Miss Cornelia suddenly felt, of 
 estranging afiluence and worldly manner and — differ- 
 ence. 
 
 43. " Listen, Mr. Villars," she anxiously whispered. 
 " Just take us into a quiet little corner where we can 
 watch, couldn't you ? Jane and me don't want to be part 
 of the real party. We shouldn't know what to do, set 
 down in the midst of strangers. What we'd love would 
 be to look on and not be anyways noticed." 
 
 44. " I'm afraid that's what it will come to. The 
 table is going to be horribly crowded. Wait a minute. 
 I'll fix it." 
 
 45. Threading his way between groups of his guests, 
 he captured two chairs and set them, parting for this pur- 
 pose the. long hangings, in the embrasure of a window at 
 one side of the darkly looming sideboard. From a second 
 foray he returned with a featherweight lacquer table, 
 which he placed between their chairs. " There, ladies, 
 now you'll be snug as — ^you know ! " 
 
 46. " Oh, Mr. Villars, you must tell us before you 
 
 42. " Full of estranging affluence and worldly manner and — 
 difference " : the description summarizes the qualities of the things 
 which the women Villarses prefer, thus indicating the spirit of 
 the environment which Mary-Dora fled when she returned to 
 Willow Creek and Nahum.
 
 330 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 leave us who they all are, for I'm sure we're in wonderful 
 company." 
 
 47. "We are, Miss Cornelia, we are; we did onr best 
 to be. You see that portly gentleman with the red face 
 and the bunch of white beard under his chin ? It's Judge 
 Silloway, whose influence has got some famous measure 
 passed which doesn't interest you or me; but he's in the 
 public eye. On the other side of Mrs. Gastonbury, and 
 looking very much tonight like his portrait by Sargent, is 
 Herbert C. Kinglake — Kinglake, you know, who has 
 willed his celebrated collection to our museum. Ilis 
 daughter is here with him, and Lady Sherson, who is 
 visiting them." 
 
 48. "Which is she?" 
 
 49. " The queer one, with, saving your presence, the 
 bones and the wreath of lilies. A painter, as you can see, 
 her specialty is life-sized portraits done at a single sitting. 
 She's talking with Edmund Dix, our city's guest while 
 he decorates the new court-room walls." 
 
 50. " I'm sure that young man with his hair on his 
 forehead, like yours, Mr. Villars, does something rare. 
 What is it?" 
 
 47-56. Mr. Villars reveals himself (elsewhere other details re- 
 veal further facts about him). He has become " a little lax " (par. 
 54) ; drink has a little loosened his tongue, and he voices his 
 unresistinc contempt for himself and for the life and people about 
 him, includins: those of his own household, to his old-fashioned 
 friend. His comments at the same time serve the author as a 
 means of producing in the reader a realizing estimate of the social 
 and character values involved in the situation she is unfolding. 
 (See S. S. M., 229-236.) Yet again, the author employs this 
 means of introducing to us some of the persons whom she will use 
 later as instruments in furthering her presentation. (All this illus- 
 trates the utility of dialogue.)
 
 An Epilogue 337 
 
 51. " You have before you, Miss Cornelia, a composer. 
 Sidney Clifford-Crane is his name, ' Figurines ' the name 
 of his latest success. One more musical luminary we have 
 this evening, Signor Cesare Olivieri, an importation, as 
 the name suggests, organist and choir-master at the 
 Church of the Immaculate. A very difficult fellow to pro- 
 duce at a function, let me tell you, but we collared him 
 this time. Those I think are our best cards. ISText in 
 order comes that civilized and well-washed being who 
 looks like a professor. He is one; that accounts for it. 
 Professor Morrison, late of Dartmouth College. ISTear 
 him, with the brow. Miss Henrietta Marsh, head of our 
 most select young ladies' finishing school ; lectures some- 
 times on woman questions." 
 
 52. " Is there nobody here at all, Mr. Villars, that 
 isn't anybody ? " asked Miss Cornelia, in a happy sigh. 
 
 53. " Yes." He dropped his voice, though the danger 
 of being overheard was small. " You see that solemnly 
 good and handsome man ? It's the Eev. Andrew DeJames, 
 a nonentity every bit as much as myself; like me, an ass, 
 utter. You see that other well-set-up fellow with lots of 
 white vest, who looks like a silent actor? Never tell; a 
 veterinarian, swellest horses in town are his patients. You 
 present him as Doctor Cudworth; who need know? He's 
 Sally's last chance; but she can't make up her mind to 
 the sound of the thing. Who else ? Jack Lancey and his 
 wife, over there; he rich, she beautiful. She was on the 
 stage for a short while, with the excuse of a living to earn. 
 Face like a confiding peach." 
 
 54. Cornelia gave the speaker a more attentive look, 
 the better to understand his mood. He seemed to be mak- 
 ing fun of his guests. It was just his boyish way, she
 
 338 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 excused liim, and loyally disallowed a vague misliking for 
 it. There was a change in him, after all, since the old 
 days. She described it, " As if everything had become a 
 little lax." 
 
 55. " I will whisper it in your ear, dear Miss Cornelia, 
 for whom I have a simply enormous regard," — he bent his 
 face, enkindled with the excitement that made him talka- 
 tive, — " I ani virtually not acquainted with the crowd 
 here tonight, l^or is my wife, nor are her daughters. 
 We got them with Mrs. Gastonbury for bait. Sally 
 worked it." 
 
 56. As Peter Villars here winked. Miss Cornelia 
 laughed in merry appreciation of his joke. 
 
 57. " One minute," he interrupted ; " my wife is sig- 
 naling to me ! " and departed from her side. 
 
 58. " So that's his second wife ! " Cornelia, looking at 
 the stout figure in black velvet and diamonds, involun- 
 tarily shook her head. " I hadn't supposed she was so 
 much older as that." 
 
 59. She readjusted her shawl, smoothed her gloves a 
 little nervously in the expectation that, their murmured 
 conference over, Peter would bring his wife to make 
 acquaintance with them. But this did not happen, and 
 finding ready excuses for the postponed formality, Cor- 
 nelia returned her undivided m.ind to the joys of the hour. 
 
 60. So deft had been the engineering, that when with 
 
 58. Note how efifeetively the swift physical description 
 " places " the second wife for us. S. S. M., 222 : 9. A few refer- 
 ences elsewhere reinforce the impression; note them. 
 
 60. Includes further rapid characterization of the contributing 
 persons, by way of preparing us better to appreciate the signifi- 
 cance of their comments later on. The details also serve further 
 to impress us with the artificiality and scheming of the " affair,"
 
 An Epilogue 339 
 
 a soft rustle and commotion the guests took seats, they 
 were ordered almost exactly as marked on the chart of 
 the supper-table drawn by Sally when she composed her 
 party as she might have done a bouquet. Mrs. Gaston- 
 bury at the head, between Judge Silloway and Herbert 
 Kinglake, after herself the greatest guns, who would feel 
 themselves entitled to that honor. Next to the judge, who 
 was no great talker, a lovely prattler such as all men like, 
 Rose Lancey. Next to Kinglake, Lady Shcrson, of course ; 
 and next to her Dix. They would have the common in- 
 terest of their art. Mother at the other end of the oval 
 table, good, safe Walter Cudworth at one hand, and her 
 son John at the other, which would save her the necessity 
 of trying to appear clever. Adeline between the minister, 
 with whom to be intellectual, and the composer of " Fig- 
 urines," with whom to be musical. John at the side of 
 the exquisite Miss Kinglake, like himself, young. Olivieri, 
 who had the reputation of being impossible, right at her 
 own side. " My best is good," had said Sally ; " I will 
 do my best." At Olivieri's left, Mrs. Morrison, whose 
 dubious qualification for the post was that she read Dante 
 in the original. Almost most important of all, at mother's 
 end of the table Professor Morrison, the one man present 
 who could be expected to sustain adequately a conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. Gastonbury. Prompted at the right mo- 
 
 and of its manager, Miss Sally. An important part of the moti- 
 vation of carrying-plot (introd. n. 4) appears in the closing sen- 
 tences. — ^ Throws revealing light on the stupid and ignorant con- 
 ception on the part of the Villars women, especially Sally, of 
 social and intellectual intercourse; pi'esents an instance of the 
 "climbers'" inept and incompetent planning. (Incidentally, our 
 sense of justice is gi-atified by the recoil on Miss Sally, in its 
 consequences, of her social scheme.)
 
 340 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 nicnt, he was to address a question, a request to her. She 
 would answer across the length of the table. The others 
 would stop talking to listen. There would ensue a memo- 
 rable evening, such an evening as one finds recorded in 
 literary memoirs.^ 
 
 61. The table was crowded; several of the men merely 
 sat near it, behind fair shoulders, and the fair shoulders 
 so arranged themselves as not quite to present their backs. 
 A charmingly informal look was given to the picture by 
 this irregularity; it " composed " better ^ like that, Villars 
 would have said. He had a chair slightly behind Lady 
 Sherson and Dix. Cornelia and Jane's window was so 
 close that he could have an eye to their comfort. When 
 waiters began to hand bouillon, he was obliged to draw in 
 his chair, w-hile Cornelia and Jane considerately pulled 
 their little table farther into the shadow of the window 
 curtains to make room for the passing. 
 
 G2. " Exactly the way I should have chosen it to be," 
 Cornelia glowed. A chance to behold a banquet such as 
 one reads about, from a sort of grand-tier box, without 
 constraint, without responsibilities. " I'm not going to 
 miss one bit of this," she said to Mrs. Banks, trying to 
 multiply eyes and ears and all. 
 
 61. ' See (1), n., par. 35. 
 
 62. See n., par. 4-14. Incidentally, Miss Cornelia's remark ex- 
 presses the suitable point of view for the reader, as mentioned 
 heretofore. Perhaps the author did not awaredly plan this rela- 
 tionship of the reader to the facts of her narrative; but even 
 if she did not, it is created naturally by her conception of the 
 story and the way to present it; i.e., by one of the instinctive 
 manifestations of skill that are common in art. (Trained imag- 
 ination coupled with skill in construction produces a great many 
 excellences in writing that are not consciously planned for by 
 the artist, but merely achieved by him instinctively. Criticism is
 
 An Epilogue 341 
 
 63. It was the delight, as fresh as a young girl's, of 
 her own impressions that brought Miss Cornelia to the 
 thought, " What must it have seemed like to a girl of 
 seventeen who had never seen anything better in her life 
 than Willow Creek and our little sitting-room at home to 
 walk into this room and surprise them at dinner I " ^ In 
 the picture called up there entered, with stirrings of an 
 outlived sorrow, the remembrance of a tombstone in the 
 moonlight. The grievous consideration of all that one 
 misses by lying in the grave led to a firmer taking hold 
 then and there on the belief that those who stand in the 
 light of the throne can miss nothing. Her wistful imagi- 
 nation of that light made the scene before Miss Cornelia's 
 eyes look for one second gross, dull, disenchanted, like 
 pebbles with which children have been playing, pretending 
 they were jewels.^ 
 
 largely concerned with these consequences of an instinctive, or 
 unconscious, art. Important as a study of such effects is in 
 giving one a conception of technique, and important as conscious 
 technique itself is, the student must nevertheless guard himself 
 against the notion that conscious technique is the greatest thing 
 in expression. Technique is a means only ; the great things in 
 art are a knowledge of life and clearly defined and realized con- 
 ceptions of it in particular aspects. Mere knowledge of the 
 means of expression is not enough for the creation of excellent 
 literature; the means must be employed with power of expres- 
 sion, and power of expression comes much more fi'om power of 
 understanding and imagination than it does from the engineering 
 of the constructor or the mechanics of the builder. It is the 
 product of spiritual resource and imaginative virility.) 
 
 63. ' In other words, she had in part the point of view of an 
 artist. In exactly such a way might the writer get the gei-m- 
 idea for a dramatic or psychological narrative-sketch or a short 
 story — i.e., by having an eye to see and a mind to ponder; by 
 being sensitive to objective facts of the life passing under his 
 observation, and mentally alert to discover and interpret their
 
 342 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 64. " ISTow, which one is Miss Adeline ? And which 
 is Miss Sally ? I must decide," she returned to the press- 
 ing business of the hour, " She always spoke of Miss 
 Adeline as very fine-looking, and Miss Sally she made the 
 difference of saying was pretty. Miss xidcline was the 
 musician, Miss Sally the wit. Their name was Potts 
 when their mother remarried. I don't wonder they cared 
 enough to change it for such a pretty name as Villars." 
 
 65. " Adeline! " came a voice in front of Cornelia, be- 
 longing to the feminine form whose back was most com- 
 pletely turned toward her. " Will you get John's eye for 
 me ? I can't very well throw a breadball at him." 
 
 66. So that was Adeline, the one in heliotrope under 
 a film of black lace, whose face had made her think of a 
 sheep! Well, well, twelve years do make a difference. 
 
 meaning. — ' Psychological detail. It serves (a) to amplify the 
 characterization of Miss Cornelia; (b) as a means of introducing 
 naturally and inobviously a spiritual comment upon life; (e) by 
 putting the worldly in contrast with the spiritual, to give us 
 another angle from which to estimate the character of the arti- 
 iicial Yillarses measured by the nobler ideals of religious sim- 
 plicity, and by comparison with the simple naturalness, sweetness, 
 and unselfishness of Mary-Dora. 
 
 64. Note the naturalness of the return to the immediate scene 
 and its persons ; the addition of descriptive and characterizing de- 
 tail (one of the many instances of distributed detail) : and espe- 
 cially the device (quotation) by which we are kept thinking of the 
 dead heroine, the central person — "she always spoke. ..." 
 
 65. Miss Sally's " wit " and her degree of social polish are ade- 
 quately indicated by her brief request. No interpreting words 
 are used; none are needed. 
 
 66. More distributed detail. Here the description reverses the 
 impression provided in par. 64, thus gaining the emphasis of 
 contrast. — Noting the age of the two sisters (par. 69), visualize 
 them in the dress and jewels they wear, and from your own 
 observation of women, estimate the accuracy of the portrayal and 
 its value as a means of indicating character.
 
 An Epilogue 343 
 
 This lady was all right in herself, — what lovely amethysts 
 she wore ! — but as filling the idea one had carried about 
 for years of the wonderful Adeline 
 
 67. " Sally wants you," she was heard to say in an 
 aside directed toward John. 
 
 68. And that was Sally in the red silk and pearl neck- 
 lace, who had made Cornelia — her fancy was given to such 
 humors — think of a pug-dog ! She was a lot fresher than 
 Adeline, but she was not young, either. 
 
 69. " But then the dear child, if she were here, would 
 be near thirty tonight," Cornelia reflected. " I keep for- 
 getting that. She was something like ten years younger 
 than Sally, who was several years younger than Adeline. 
 I don't suppose I look, either, just the same as I did 
 twelve years ago. Yes, dear Mr. Peter," she greeted him, 
 "we've had everything; we've had more than is good for 
 us. Ices, yes ; cake, yes ; punch, no. Jane and me 
 couldn't do with that, could we, Jane! What are they, 
 Mr. Peter ? Sugared violets, did you say ? Sugared 
 violets ! What will they think of next ! " 
 
 70. " The last time I was in this house," Kinglake was 
 saying softly to Lady Sherson, while their host devoted 
 himself to his friends from the country, " was in Mr. 
 Vanstock's time. Old Potts bought the house of the Van- 
 stocks very nearly as it stood. Whatever good pieces you 
 
 70. Further illuminating detail. Note the commonplaeeness of 
 character and station relentlessly betrayed by the connotation of 
 the name Potts — a hint of the value of the appropriate naming 
 of persons. But the Pottses have now become Villarses, a change 
 itself symbolic of their (material) rise in life. The assumption 
 by the sisters of the name Villars (par. 64) is indicative of their 
 ignorant estimate of values and their vulgar though vaulting 
 ambitions.
 
 344 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 seo, it was Vanstock picked them \ip. The French mez- 
 zotints '' He dropped the subject abruptly, and 
 
 turned to make room for John, who came tendering the 
 box of fairy-small, straw-thin cigarettes that Sally had 
 sent him for. 
 
 71. " These ? Oh, thanks ! " Lady Sherson measured 
 them with a quizzical eye. " But, my young friend, keep 
 those. I will take one of Mr. Kinglake's." 
 
 72. The moment had now come. 
 
 73. " Mrs. Gastonbury," began Professor Morrison in 
 the voice that was used to making itself heard in lecture- 
 rooms, " the story goes, and has even been printed, that 
 in your travels once, being unexpectedly obliged to stop 
 over at some small wayside place, in a village strange to 
 you, you came, while taking a walk to pass the time be- 
 tween trains — came upon Sylvia, a girl, the story goes, 
 corresponding in every point, even name, with the heroine 
 of your well-known book, the purest creation of your 
 brain. Will you tell us " 
 
 74. " My dear sir," responded Mrs. Gastonbury, with 
 her highly educated, measured, precise enunciation, " I 
 
 71. " The smart one " is a natural artist in betraying lack of 
 savoir faire and the pretentiousness of ignorance. Note Lady 
 Sherson's quizzical estimate of the cigarettes. 
 
 72-74. On dialogue, see S. S. M., 235 : 11-17 ; the professor's 
 language is cultiv'ated and literary — and unconsciously pedantic 
 and diffuse. — Although, for reasons already mentioned (as in 
 introd. n. 3, the fii'st part of introd. n. 4 and in introd. n. 5), 
 formal construction is relatively subordinate in the present story, 
 we are not to assume that structure is lacking. The development 
 provided by the author has three stages. The first (pars. 1-71) by 
 introducing preliminary facts and presenting the contributing 
 persons lays broadly a foundation for that part of the narrative
 
 An Epilogue 345 
 
 am sorry to say there is no foundation whatever for the 
 tale." As if unaware oi what was desired from her, she 
 turned again to Judge Silloway and resumed her conver- 
 sation with him. 
 
 75. Mrs. Gastonbury in these days habitually looked 
 very tired, very detached, very pale, as if a whiff of wind 
 might blow away the faint pastel picture that she made. 
 Habitually her eyebrows were raised as far as they would 
 go, which gave her a look of pitying all before her, and 
 being lified on thoughts of other things to be pitied far 
 away. She had overcome a good deal at her age to take 
 a journej and give her services in the cause that would 
 forever find her unhardened — the children ; now she was 
 tired, anc unmoved by the faintest sense of obligation to 
 do more for these rather vulgar rich people. Judge Sil- 
 loway w£s giving her facts she earnestly cared to hear, 
 curious as ever about the realities of life. 
 
 which is to reveal the essential plot and characterization facts 
 necessary t) the history of Mary-Dora. The second part (pai's. 
 72-202) presents the significant body of these plot facts and their 
 accompanying essentials of characterization. Part three (pars. 
 203-227) concentrates itself upon the Villars family, showing 
 them in th? realization of the tragedy disclosed by part two — 
 each of tlem, according to character, taking it in his or her 
 way. It h this part too that provides the reader with the con- 
 clusive evidence of the truth of the tragic facts (see iatrod. n. 3). — 
 
 Exercise: Plot the period of crisis in Mary-Dora's life for 
 direct presentation instead of indirect ; that is, construct a plot 
 embodyug the basic situation (introd. n. 4) in its own place, 
 time, ani setting, presenting its events when and as they origi- 
 nally to)k place — a plot telling the struggle and fate of Mary- 
 Dora drectly, with the little heroine herself moving through the 
 action. 
 
 75-76. Mrs. Gastonbury represents one of the four classes de- 
 picted in the story — the artists, the noa-ar(istic but educated and 
 cultuied, the everyday "ordinary" person (Miss Cornelia and
 
 346 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 76. " ITcre cndcth the first lesson," mumbled Sally, 
 and let her eyes weigh a moment longer, indecipherably 
 charged, on the white head and calm, fragile figure of that 
 spoiled pensioner on the world's good-will who had thus 
 simply dropped her and her party into the waste-bssket. 
 
 77. " If it's up to us, then," — she pulled herself 
 together to retrieve the defeat, — " here goes ! Signor 
 Olivieri, we were talking of singers," she in a bravely 
 audible voice tossed down on the cloth a subject which she 
 thought a fertile one. " Patti and jSTilsson were, of course, 
 
 Mrs. Banks), and the prosperous vulgar and ignoran:. Let the 
 student enter in their proper column the names of the persons be- 
 longing to each class. If then he will take note of the conversa- 
 tion and acts of these persons individually, he will find two things: 
 (a) that the person has been chai'acterized as an indivickal, accord- 
 ing to class (S. S. M., 208:2-4, with notes; 182:6-9), aud espe- 
 cially with reference to his or her manifestation of sym{:)athy with 
 and comprehension of the personality and the genius of Mary- 
 Dora ; for the author intends us ultimately to realize both the hard- 
 ness and the dullness of the world toward some of its finest, most 
 beautiful, and most gifted spirits. To this end she hjs shown us 
 even some of the cultured, evincing no real appreheision of the 
 qualities of the girl (e.g., cf. par. 144). Pars. 7J-76 as their 
 immediate function put the hard, vulgar, and selish Sally in 
 contrast with the unselfish and finely comprehensive author (ob- 
 serve Sally's shallow resentment and vulgarly dull (stimate of 
 the gifted woman when the latter fails to serve her petty 
 purpose). 
 
 77. The first sentence, quoting Sally's thought, is apt\y worded 
 (and not too obviously) to represent by its language th» quality 
 of the thought and of its parent mind. The rest slows the 
 bungling ineptness of the ignorant mind, and the " hali-baked " 
 social method of the unfinished person, in " throwing down," 
 much as if it were a medicine-ball to be scrambled for aid then 
 tossed back and forth, a subject for conversation. Obsa-ve also 
 the significance of sentence 1 in par. 78. 
 
 On the adaptation of the persons to their part in the narra- 
 tive, see S. S. M., 215:2-5, noting especially (C) in 4. The
 
 An Epilogue 347 
 
 before my time. I can't pretend to speak about them. 
 But for my taste, Marcella Sembrich completely satisfies 
 it. What do you think of her ? Mrs. Morrison and you ? " 
 78. She tried at once to involve Mrs. Morrison in the 
 conversation, because this Olivieri had so far proved dif- 
 ficult to talk with. Of his peculiarity she had been 
 vi^arned, but warned as well of repaying riches, could you 
 reach them. There was a suspicious look of genius on his 
 forehead, from which the hair had begun to recede. He 
 was that curiosity, an Italian not suave, an Italian dis- 
 pleased with Italy as well as with America, critical, 
 armed, who had as lief blame and contradict you as not. 
 Stories ran of the difficult and fearful times his pupils 
 knew with him. The worth of what he had to give alone 
 explained the position he preserved. Clifford-Crane, who 
 was very fond of him, had been asked to bring this 
 waspish lion. He seemed in a good enough humor tonight ; 
 so far he had merely been unwilling to talk. He felt no 
 responsibility; Crane, who had dragged him here, was 
 responsible. With a cigarette between his lips, his con- 
 tradictory face, at once passionate and cynical, looked al- 
 most at peace with a mistaken and pernicious world. 
 And now his lively neighbor, to whose brand of esprit he 
 did not at all take, was trying to start him on a subject 
 which she had chosen as being particularly his own. Such 
 
 brusque, rasping, impatient idealist Olivieri, concerned chiefly 
 with the essential truth, not with putting it with conventional 
 politeness, as hard-headedly stubborn as Sally herself in asserting 
 his belief, and scornful of dullness and pretense — only such a 
 person would persist in the dispute that arises, and outlast Sally 
 in a self-assertiveness that was one of her peculiar gifts. On 
 the immediate explanation of his disposition at this point, see 
 S. S. M., 161 : 15-20.
 
 348 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 a thing could not be done to liiin. Still, with good smoke 
 to puff through his nostrils, he was not averse to talking 
 a little. He had been thinking while all around him chat- 
 tered ; a memory had come back of which it would interest 
 him to talk. 
 
 79. Mrs. Morrison had finished telling how Sembrich 
 affected her. 
 
 80. " The most beautiful voice I ever heard," said 
 Olivieri, with exactly the right effect of a great authority 
 who in a favored and congenial circle condescends to be 
 liberal of his personal observations — " the most beautiful 
 voice I ever heard " Sally's spirits rose on the in- 
 stant — " was your sister's." 
 
 81. There was a pause, during which Sally looked di- 
 rectly at him, with a growing light of interrogation, un- 
 belief, amusement, in her eyes. 
 
 82. " Indeed ? " she asked, with meritorious self-re- 
 straint, and removed her eyes from him to turn them 
 where Adeline sat between DeJames and Clifford-Crane, 
 both of whom were bending toward her, so that they faced 
 each other like two flanking angels. " When was it you 
 heard her ? Were you favored with ' Todt und das 
 Miidchen ' or ' Sapphische Ode ? ' " 
 
 83. It was Olivieri's turn to look at a loss. He sent 
 
 79. Useful solely for "continuity," or coherence; note the com- 
 plete suppression of detail. 
 
 82. A further indication of Sally's cultural status — inability to 
 rise to the impersonal ; the idea of the socially incompetent that 
 converse consists of personal reference and repartee, including the 
 making of fun at the expense of others. 
 
 83. The mstinctive start indexes the strength of his artistic pas- 
 sion, and indicates his impulsiveness; and his failure to conceal 
 it shows his own disregard of social niceties.
 
 An Epilogue 349 
 
 his glance after hers, and drew back as if he had inad- 
 vertently touched something red-hot. " I do not mean that 
 sister." 
 
 84. " Then you are thinking of somebody else's sister, 
 for across the table you behold the only sister I ever had." 
 
 85. "How singular! But no, no, my dear lady, it 
 surely was your sister. Are you not Miss Villars? She 
 was Miss Villars and your sister, living in this house with 
 you." 
 
 86. " But, my dear sir, I surely ought to know." 
 
 87. " I could not be mistaken. The thing must posi- 
 tively be as it has remained fixed in my mind these many 
 years." 
 
 88. " Signor Olivieri, you are extraordinary ! " 
 
 89. " No, it is you. Search — search in your memory." 
 
 90. " Search in my memory for a missing sister ? " 
 
 91. " Could he mean Mary ? " came tentatively from 
 John, at the end of the table beside his mother. Miss 
 Kinglake and he were at a conversational standstill ; they 
 had for some minutes been listening to the talk of the 
 others. 
 
 92. Sally looked blank, and as if she were faced in 
 
 84. Given a Sally and an Olivieri, we may be sure that the dis- 
 pute will be disputed to the end. It begins here. Its progress 
 provides the opportunities for introducing all the varied (and 
 characteristic) remarks, opinions, and judgments of the different 
 guests, through which at last our conception and understanding 
 of Mary-Dora are produced, and through which, because of their 
 characterizing significance, we are brought to perceive how hard 
 and unfit the soil and how unfavorable the environment in which 
 that rare plant of womanhood and genius was placed. The stu- 
 dent will do well to take particular note of the recurrence of 
 such passages. 
 
 92. Indicative of the first " cropper " that Sally comes — and of
 
 350 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 fact with the enormity of having dropped a sister com- 
 pletely out of mind. She rallied in a second. 
 
 93. " But she was not my sister. She was John's — 
 that is to say, his half-sister. She was Mr. Villars's 
 daughter by his first marriage — Mary Villars, of course." 
 
 94. " Her Christian name I have forgotten," Olivieri 
 said. " Was it that ? Mary ? Mary ! It does not rouse 
 the right echo in my ear." 
 
 95. " Because, it is plain, you are thinking of some- 
 body else. What was it brought about this search among 
 the family records ? Your remark that the most beautiful 
 voice you had ever heard was my sister's. jSTothing is 
 more certain than that Mary neither had a voice nor could 
 sing. Had she, John ? Could she ? " 
 
 96. John shook his head negatively, but more, by his 
 expression, as if he wondered than as if he were so sure. 
 
 97. " By no possible straining can she be made into 
 the person you are talking about, Signor Olivieri." 
 
 98. Olivieri, with his eye on Sally, seemed to hesitate 
 and consent to reconsider. He gave a nod so resolute that 
 it knocked the ash oif his cigarette. 
 
 99. " It was she." 
 
 100. " But this becomes absurd ! You won't mind my 
 saying so ? She was a little girl from the country, sixteen, 
 
 course indicative of her character, " the enormity of having 
 dropped a sister out of mind." Observe the confirmation of her 
 character in the nature of her apologia in par. 93. 
 
 96. The first of the cumulating facts that convince us of the 
 truth about Mary-Dora and, also, of the entire " enormity " of the 
 Villars attitude toward her. 
 
 100. From this paragraph forward, we have frequent exposi- 
 tion, by means of the dialogue, of essential facts about Mary-Dora 
 and the situation in which life placed her. Note them.
 
 An Epilogue 351 
 
 seventeen, eighteen; she lived vv^ith ns a year; then went 
 back to the country, married, and not long afterward died. 
 And not one of us, or anybody else, ever heard her sing, 
 particularly, or knew she had a voice." 
 
 101. " I heard her sing, and know she had a voice, the 
 most beautiful natural organ I have heard in my life." 
 
 102. What was to be done with a man like this ? Sally 
 had been prepared, but not for anything quite so disgust- 
 ingly rude. Her hand itched to deal him a swift, un- 
 ceremonious slap. 
 
 103. " Will you tell us," she asked, with a return to 
 exemplary composure, " when it was you heard this ex- 
 traordinary voice ? " 
 
 104. " Not with exactitude, but it was a good number 
 of years ago, when I was still new in this country. She 
 came to my studio, and I tried her voice." 
 
 105. " What did she look like ? " 
 
 106. " Young, very blonde, — that I remember well, — 
 and very innocently beautiful." 
 
 107. Sally shook her head, with a pitying and con- 
 vinced smile. 
 
 108. " I don't wish to seem unkind, but it doesn't 
 sound much like a description of the Mary we had among 
 us." 
 
 109. " After so long I could not pretend to remember 
 details with precision, as, what color were her eyes, was 
 
 102. The rudeness distributes itself at least equally. Fi'om the 
 last sentence, the reader can judge where the greater lack of 
 moral and social discipline lies. 
 
 103. Here and throughout, Miss Sally's form of expression not 
 only is a rude challenge of the truthfulness of her guest, but 
 worse, a hard and cruel denial of the possibility of merit in the 
 dead step-sister.
 
 352 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 her iicck long or short, had she a distinguishing mark, 
 mole, on her cheek or chin. But my impression I have 
 not forgotten, that she was charming enough to melt 
 hearts. And with the voice added, the voice cultivated 
 and strengthened, it seemed to me she could conquer the 
 world — if, let it be added, she had been willing to 
 work." 
 
 110. "There is here the most amazing equivoke!" 
 cried Sally, with a toss of her hands, almost angry in its 
 helplessness. 
 
 111. " Not at all. No equivoke at all. It is as I tell 
 you." 
 
 112. " Yes, yes," Sally caught back her effect of well- 
 bred patience ; " a pretty girl came to your studio, you 
 tried her voice, and it was the loveliest in the world : but 
 the girl was not our Mary." 
 
 113. " There came to my studio to have her voice tried 
 a beautiful girl, fresh as the dew on the wild rose, and 
 her voice was divine, was the voice of a young angel, una- 
 ware of methods or arts or of herself — a song-bird born, 
 xlnd this girl was your sister or your brother's sister or 
 his half-sister or stepsister — w^as, in short, the Mary, the 
 Helen, the Catherine, who lived with you in this house 
 ten or more years ago." 
 
 114. Excitement made his peculiar voice hot and 
 sharp. Besides Mrs. Morrison and her husband, besides 
 John and Miss Kinglake, there had begun to listen 
 
 112. The stubborn persistence of the prejudiced and crude. 
 
 113. Another passage of dialogue giving direct information 
 about Mary-Dora. 
 
 114. Miss Sally — characteristically — has taken the course that 
 is certain to attract attention to the dispute.
 
 An Epilogue 353 
 
 Clifford-Crane opposite, and Adeline and the Rev. Andrew 
 DeJames. 
 
 115. " I'm sure I don't know what may be necessary 
 to convince you," Sally contended for her ground. " I 
 wonder," she offered coolly, not to him, but to the air be- 
 fore her, " what young woman can have thought it worth 
 while to pass herself off as our relative. Did she come 
 again? How does the story continue? The surprising 
 thing is that she did not get a term or two of lessons from 
 you on the security of her borrowed name." 
 
 116. " Shall I tell you why I am so certain who she 
 was ? " He looked like a player with an ace to lay down. 
 " She was brought to me by a man, at that time a friend 
 of mine, whose name, I am sorry to say, I have forgotten. 
 He was also a friend in this house. To make it clear 
 whom I mean, he was affianced to Miss Villars." By a 
 motion of his head he indicated Adeline, who looked down 
 at the table-cloth, her cheek mantling with a dark blush. 
 
 117. Sally laughed as if in triumph. 
 
 118. "Oh, that! As proof positive — George Chap- 
 man, do you mean ? " 
 
 119. " That is the name — Chapman. He has been 
 gone a long time from this city." 
 
 120. " Really, Signor Olivieri, for one who has seen 
 so much of the world " Sally archly derided him. 
 
 121. " I have seen so much of the world, my dear lady, 
 I have known so much of cheating, lying, deceiving, that 
 
 116. As pointed out in n. 78, only a person like Olivieri would 
 have been inclined or able to meet Miss Sally with such weapons 
 — her own sort. 
 
 121. We are warranted in thinking sentence 1 carries beneath 
 the surface a reference to the Villarses.
 
 354 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 when people are not impostors I know it also. This friend 
 of the house brought a young prospective relative in whom 
 he was interested, for he was himself an excellent musi- 
 cian, to ask my opinion of her voice. I gave it as I have 
 given it to you." 
 
 122. "And then?" 
 
 123. " Then when I saw him again, we talked the voice 
 over, and the possibilities, the business side. I thought 
 surely to have the young girl for a pupil. When she did 
 not return, I after a time asked Chapman about it. I 
 forget the explanation, what reasons he gave. But I know 
 what I said to him :' If it is a question of money, I will 
 take that girl as my pupil for nothing. I will give her 
 her training — singing, language, acting, for nothing, for 
 love. I feel gifts in her of which nor you nor she 
 knows anything. I will make of her the miracle of her 
 time.' " 
 
 124. Sally burst out laughing. Mrs. Gastonbury 
 turned her way, and looked a pitying curiosity at that ex- 
 cited foreigner, with his physiognomy of an angry and 
 disappointed idealist. 
 
 125. " Nothing is wanting," cried Sally — " nothing 
 except some proof that all this was not a dream. For the 
 important fact remains that Mary Villars of this house 
 had no more voice than a little cat. I think that we, if 
 anybody, ought to know. Whence, Signor Olivieri, this 
 desire to mystify us? You are whimsical, I have heard, 
 but have you not had fun enough out of our heavy 
 stupidity ? What is it, John ? " 
 
 123. Observe the value of naturally reported cumulative detail 
 in conveying the impression of truth.
 
 An Epilogue 355 
 
 126. "These." 
 
 127. John, who, unmissed, had slipped from the room, 
 laid on the table two photographs. Olivieri seized upon 
 them with eyes that probed and grasped, while everyone 
 near looked expectantly at him as he studied the pictures. 
 His hand came down like a lion's paw. 
 
 128. " Certainly, it is the one. Here is the proof. 
 The image had faded from my memory. This 
 revives it." 
 
 129. " Oh, nonsense! " escaped from Sally. 
 
 130. " May I see the pictures ? " asked Professor Mor- 
 rison, with his characteristic alertness of interest. 
 
 131. " Might I ? " His wife extended her hand for 
 them on his behalf. 
 
 132. " It's no proof, anyhow," continued Sally, " for 
 the simple reason that the larger picture doesn't look like 
 her. Anybody can tell that the photographer used every 
 artifice to make it as much as possible like a fancy picture. 
 And the picture taken with John in a broad collar, hu- 
 morous souvenir of an excursion to the beach, certainly 
 doesn't give you much idea of what is under the brim of 
 that straw hat. All you see is a grin." 
 
 133. " I see a dimple," said the professor. " It is 
 true that the larger picture looks like what we are pleased 
 to call a fancy picture." 
 
 134. " Girls of seventeen do sometimes look like fancy 
 pictures," said Miss Henrietta Marsh, to whom the photo- 
 
 130. At this point begin the comments and contributions of the 
 rest of che company. Some serve to represent the sympathy or 
 lack of sympathy of the world; some, to give information about 
 Mary-Dora. See n. 75-76. 
 
 134. An example of the placing of corrective or illuminative 
 comment in the mouth of ancillary persons.
 
 356 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 graph had been passed. " If it were not differing with 
 you, Miss Villars, I should call this rather good — better 
 than the class picture, which is all I have of her." 
 
 135. '* Humph ! " coughed Dr. Cudworth, looking in 
 his turn. 
 
 136. " It's flattered," Mrs. Villars assured him above 
 a whisper. 
 
 137. " Oh ! " came in a tone of sweet pity from Sibyl 
 Kinglake, who had held out her hand to have the picture 
 next — ^''oh! oh!" She was a young and lovely vision 
 herself, — Cornelia likened her to a white greyhound, — 
 she searched with sympathetic eyes this face of one young 
 and lovely and destined not to live. " Oh ! " 
 
 138. Clifford-Crane had swung round to look at the 
 picture with her. " Schneewittchen! " he remarked, with 
 an echo in his intonation of his neighbor's pity and ten- 
 
 135. Recall the characterization of Dr. Cudworth given by Mr. 
 Villars, and judge of the appropriateness of the remark assigned 
 to him. 
 
 136. Mrs. Villars, formerly Potts, is weakly seconding Sally's 
 disparagement of the step-child. For evidence that the remark is 
 in keeping, see the characterization in par. 60 and par. 58, and 
 her behavior in the closing episode of the narrative (pars. 203 ff). 
 If one wishes to speculate on remote elements of character and 
 motivation, he may ponder the fact that Adeline seems the most 
 likable and least offensive of the Villars women, and is apparently 
 the one whose life has been fullest of the softening and human- 
 izing influences of emotional experience (pars. 116 and 
 215). 
 
 137. Description by indication of the effect produced on 
 another; the impression is strengthened by the author's swift char- 
 acterization of the sensitive girl who is thus moved by the picture. 
 " Like appeals to like." The next paragraph is of like nature, 
 giving the impression made upon an artist (composer), plus his 
 sensitive poetic characterization of the original of the picture.
 
 An Epilogue 357 
 
 derness — " Schneewittchen, or," he added, palpably with- 
 out malice, " Cinderella/' 
 
 139. "Thanks; I have seen it." Adeline waved it 
 along when it came to her. 
 
 140. '' Errrrrr," cleared his throat the Rev. Andrew 
 DeJames. '' The shadows didn't come out very strong, 
 did they ? Or has it faded very much ? " 
 
 141. " What is it they are looking at ? " Rose Lancey 
 asked over her shoulder of her husband. She had taken 
 a cigarette to lend her support to Lady Sherson, and set 
 balmy lips to it from time to time, just enough to keep 
 it burning. She sent a side-glance of inquiry from the 
 deeply shining, long-fringed eyes that had made Cornelia 
 call her an Alderney cow. " Let me see, too. I want to 
 see. Why, it's Dora Villars ! I went to school with her. 
 Little Dora Villars ! ' Nahum's bride,' we used to call 
 
 her. Was she any connection of Oh ! " — She 
 
 pressed an extinguisher over her voice, — " I hadn't heard, 
 of course. It's the daughter of our host," she murmured 
 to Judge Silloway as they bent over the photograph to- 
 gether. " Why do they bring it out like this if she is 
 dead?" 
 
 142. " It makes me think of a wild morning-glory," 
 said the judge, eying it through glasses far down his nose, 
 and not looking as if he tried to be poetic. 
 
 143. Does it remind you, as it does me, a little of 
 
 140. " An ass, utter." Par. 53. 
 
 141. As we should expect from the person speaking, the remark 
 is trivial. The author makes it count, however, as preparation for 
 the information given in par. 161. 
 
 142. Its impression upon an elderly man whose profession tends 
 to make one formal, fact-seeking and unimpressionable. 
 
 143. The most sensitive judgment and the most adequate inter-
 
 358 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Botticelli's ' Venus ' ? " Mrs. Gastonburj, after prolonged, 
 and as if conscientious, examination, asked Kinglake, 
 with whom she shared her turn to look. " That most 
 touching of all Venuses, whom he sometimes calls a 
 Madonna, singularly perfect embodiment of the creature 
 who has no weapons, no defences, — nothing with which to 
 fight or with which to protect itself, — nothing but 
 beauty ! " 
 
 144. " I believe I see what you mean, Mrs. Gaston- 
 bury, though frankly I should not have thought of it in 
 looking at this charming, but very human, young girl, 
 who, like my ethereal daughter over there, adored ice- 
 cream, I have no doubt, and stamped her foot when 
 things were not to her mind. See this healthy, rounded 
 cheek. The model for the ' Venus ' you speak of I have 
 read, was a consumptive." 
 
 145. " Oh, I did not mean anything very literal," 
 Mrs. Gastonbury, upon not being understood, withdrew 
 at once; " I was thinking of the expression." 
 
 146. " Botticelli's ' Venus ' ? " asked Lady Sherson, 
 laying down her cigarette to have a hand for each picture, 
 and with her refreshing bluntness promptly corrected, 
 " A goose-girl ! A heavenly goose-girl ! " 
 
 pretive comment comes from Mrs. Gastonbury. In the next para- 
 graph the art collector fails to appreciate this comment, but 
 complements Mrs. G's interpretation with impressions of the 
 material rather than the spiritual. 
 
 145. Cf. the social (and personal) savoir-faire of the gentle- 
 woman with the behavior of Miss Sally. 
 
 146. Lady Sherson (consider the type of woman she is) more 
 baldly puts the same physical aspects mentoned by Kinglake. 
 Each of these two reveal a limited amount of spiritual perception 
 in comparison with the creative artists, Clifford-Crane (music), 
 Dix (painting) and Mrs. Qastonbury (literature).
 
 An Epilogue 359 
 
 147. " I perceive the likeness you speak of," — Dix 
 nodded his fastidiously refined, gray face to Mrs. Gaston- 
 bury, — " I spent an hour or more once before the pathetic 
 flower-blue eyes of that miracle, Botticelli's ' Venus,' just 
 mooning, wondering what would happen in this world of 
 ours to a creature who looked like that." 
 
 148. " Fair Simonetta, who was the original, tradi- 
 tion says, died young. And this poor child, I under- 
 stand " 
 
 149. Peter Villars had the picture in his hand now, 
 and gazed as if it were as new to him as to anybody pres- 
 ent, though it was from his bedroom that John had 
 gone to take it. Cornelia had risen to look at it with 
 him. 
 
 150. " It's the same one we have," was all she said. 
 " Let me show it to Jane." 
 
 151. Sally and Olivieri were still contending. Their 
 contention had reached a degree of almost laughable heat, 
 a dropping on each side of deference to the other's state- 
 ments, so improbable-seeming, it looked like a comedy they 
 
 147. In the remark of the painter is obviously put the motif 
 of the basic situation : what would happen in this world of ours 
 to a creature like that. Cf. par. 143, Mrs. G's interpretation, 
 and her more direct inference in par. 148. 
 
 150. The discussion has of course got far beyond Miss Cor- 
 nelia's depth. Her act is the natural behavior of a good-souled, 
 ordinary woman, in whom the photograph of the dead stirs merely 
 personal associations (see end of par. 179). 
 
 151. The author has now provided us with a sufficiently varied 
 body of impression and judgment for the formation of an estimate 
 of Mary-Dora; and she brings us back to the immediate dispute. 
 The student will observe that, although in fact we have ranged 
 far away from the immediate matter (the quarrel), we have felt 
 no sense of suspended action or digression. Study the way in 
 which this sense of unity and coherence has been preserved.
 
 3 GO Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 played for the amusement of their now fully interested 
 audience. 
 
 152. " Oh, it's no good talking to you! " Sally broke 
 from the brisk duet, with a laugh not too flagrantly exas- 
 perated. " Miss Marsh," — she cut into a remark of that 
 lady's to the professor, — " you knew Mary. She went to 
 you all that winter. Did you know she had a voice and 
 could sing ? " 
 
 153. Miss Marsh appeared to reflect. She shook her 
 head. 
 
 154. '' I can't say I did." 
 
 155. " But if she had been so wonderful, you would 
 have known, wouldn't you ? You would have been sure 
 to know and then to remember. Did you ever know a girl 
 fonder of praise ? " 
 
 156. " She tried very hard to please me, always. That 
 I do remember, and with gratitude." 
 
 157. " Yes, she would come home prouder than a pea- 
 cock of a good report, show it to each one of us separately, 
 and wait to be complimented. Every little accomplish- 
 ment she acquired, every little improvement she made, 
 every trifle she turned out, were it a pin-cushion with one 
 rosebud in the middle, or a drawing of a woolly tree, or 
 a water-color of three ivy-leaves, she would bring home 
 for us to admire. When she had got so far along with her 
 piano-lessons that she could play the ' Jolly Farmer ' 
 
 156. Another remark that results in interpreting the character 
 of Mary-Dora — impartially. The hostile interpretation of the 
 same facts by Miss Sally in par. 157 therefore merely serves, pri- 
 marily to strengthen our unfavorable estimate of her, and through 
 that, to reveal still more evidentl> the nature of the world which 
 the spirit of Mary-Dora had to mecv
 
 An Epilogue 361 
 
 through, do you think she would let us forget it ? She 
 was positively infantile in that respect. She adored to 
 show off. And you wish us to believe " 
 
 158. "I am not explaining; I am giving facts," said 
 Olivieri. " The explanation every person will have to find 
 for himself." 
 
 159. " Here's another point against you. She had all 
 her life lived in the country, the backwoods, never been 
 anywhere, never seen anything, so that when she came to 
 us it seemed to her amazing, prodigious — all the geese 
 swans, all the pebbles pearls. My sister plays the piano; 
 she thought her a Carrerio. I permit myself sometimes 
 to scribble doggerel; I was a John G. Saxe. She was 
 ignorant enough to misplace her admirations, but her eyes 
 were opened by them to her own deficiencies ; it all made 
 her necessarily feel small and modest. And when this 
 discovery was made of a gift compared with which all we 
 could show was cheap, this child, with her passion for 
 praise, her natural envy of our advantages, kept it a dead 
 secret, you maintain ? " 
 
 160. Sally's belligerent eye, now secure in triumph, 
 swept around the table. 
 
 161. " Yes," replied Olivieri, unexpectedly. " Hor- 
 rible ! horrible ! " He clasped his head. " Thrown away ! " 
 he went on. " A voice like that ! A gift like that ! " 
 
 158. The realization that everyone will so readily find the 
 explanation of the facts is, of course, what makes Sally so ener- 
 getic in disputing the fact — that and the unpleasant trait in her, 
 of being pettily jealous and unjust. For outright indication of 
 this trait, see the close of her remarks in par. 159. In justice, 
 however, we must recognize her ignorance. 
 
 161. Olivieri is cruel and rude, but by this time we are inclined 
 to share with him his savage satisfaction in thus laying on the
 
 362 Today's Short Stories Anata'zed 
 
 1G2. One or two present felt a paradoxical unholy de- 
 sire to laugh. 
 
 163. " Rose," — Miss Marsh raised her voice to 
 speak across the table, — " Dora was at Ferncliffe 
 Lodge during your time. Had you an idea of this 
 talent?" 
 
 164. " I^one, dear Miss Marsh. I suppose Dora sang 
 the morning hymn at chapel with the rest of us, but I 
 couldn't swear even to that. I didn't know her very well, 
 you know ; she was a day-scholar. She was a sweet, sweet, 
 funny thing that everybody liked and teased a little, be- 
 cause, as Miss Villars has said, she was so new to every- 
 thing and — sort of innocent, you know. Three or four 
 of us silly things once got our heads together during a 
 rainy recess and began telling the attentions we had had 
 from boys. She told us about j!^ahum, a young farmer. 
 We never forgot. You know what girls are. But all of 
 us liked her, we were crazy about her hair, and when we 
 voted for a Mayqueen, she got it. That picture, excellent 
 otherwise, doesn't half give you an idea of her fairness — 
 pale-gold hair, pale forget-me-not eves, complexion like a 
 lily." 
 
 165. " Ah ! " spurted from Olivieri, in a fiery disgust, 
 " What a Marguerite, what a Micaela, it would have 
 been ! " 
 
 166. " !Not at all," Sally answered him with grim lips ; 
 " for had she had the voice you speak of, and had she be- 
 
 seourge of judgment. So did some of the guests (par. 162). 
 (See also par. 167.) — Pars. 163-170 continue the work of the 
 preceding paragraphs already commented on ; but in 168-169 we 
 have the most intense part of the situation so far, the dispute 
 having risen to its highest.
 
 An Epilogue 363 
 
 come your pupil ten times over, she would now have been 
 dead for ten years, all the same." 
 
 167. "Who knows?" he perversely inquired. 
 
 168. Sally looked at him as one who in sparring should 
 receive an unfair blow, and should stand with deadly eye 
 selecting the spot on the adversary where to strike in re- 
 turn. She moistened her lips, then wuped them. An 
 effect of protest against the organist was felt among the 
 audience, none could have told exactly how. 
 
 169. Mrs. Morrison was thinking she must jump in 
 with a remark about the north pole or the sea-serpent or 
 any wild thing. Sibyl Kinglake was in acute misery. 
 The scene felt to her altogether like an evil, unnatural 
 dream. How in actual life could all these people have for- 
 gotten that the father and brother of that poor young girl 
 were present ? A spell of stupidity seemed to have been 
 cast over them by the dreadful voice of that woman with- 
 out heart who set the example. 
 
 170. Sibyl moved restlessly on her chair, wondering 
 would it be too improper for her to be the first to get up 
 from the table and say good-night. Miss Marsh was con- 
 sidering the same solution, and on the point of giving it 
 practice, when, " Miss Villars ! Miss Villars ! " rose a 
 fluttering voice, drawing all eyes toward the embrasure 
 of the window whence it came. Sally turned around. 
 
 171. " Tell him," Miss Cornelia stood up, tremulous 
 with excitement, " tell him again — " she referred with 
 
 171. Miss Cornelia's speech, beginning here, fills out the history 
 of Mary-Dora with additional and oaore connected detail. Observe 
 that her account consists largely of exposition, and is introduced 
 out of chronological order (chronology plays little part in the 
 present nstrrative), yet is much more significant to us now be-
 
 364 Today's Shout Stokies Analyzed 
 
 her hand to Oliviori, as if he had been one to whom an 
 interpreter was necessary for snch as herself, " from me, 
 Miss Villars, that he is mistaken." 
 
 172. She felt the whole table looking at her now. The 
 table was in fact wondering more actively than it had 
 done about the country gentlewomen, with hands visibly 
 marred by housework, who seemed to form, as it were, an 
 interlude in a different key to the harmony of the bril- 
 liant assemblage. 
 
 173. " Tell him I ought to know% Miss Villars. Mary- 
 Dora lived with us, my sister and me, most all the days 
 
 cause meantime Mary-Dora herself has become significant. This 
 suggests the vakie of dislocation for the sake of emphasis, impres- 
 siveness, or increased interest. S. S. M., 122 : 1-3 ; 152 : 2-3. 
 
 172. In the conte, introduction of an incongruous person is 
 harder to manage than in the novel. Miss Cornelia is incongruous 
 in this company. Yet the author, having decided to present the 
 story of Mary-Dora by bringing together the persons best able 
 to give an account of her, had to include Miss Cornelia. Go 
 through the story observing the way in which her presence is pro- 
 vided for and convincingly explained. The management is so 
 effective that we feel no sense of strangeness in her being there; 
 study it. Again, Miss Cornelia's contribution to the history and 
 judgment of the girl is indispensable. Once more, consider how 
 her character, her social status and conventions, including her 
 village point of view, along with her sense of personal relation- 
 ship with Mary-Dora and of acquaintanceship with the family, 
 and her failure really to comprehend the situation, — all combine 
 to motivate her sudden in-uption into this untoward discussion 
 (see closing part of 179). It is not to be assumed that the 
 author consciously reasoned this out in detail; but it is to be 
 noted that her conception as a whole was so definite and com- 
 plete that this motivation was provided naturally and truly by 
 the soundness and completeness of the conception. Observe too 
 the passing touch of temporary situation in the author's remark 
 about the curiosity of the guests about her; this adds to the 
 verisimilitude of the presentation at this point.
 
 An Epilogue 365 
 
 of her life. Such a thing as he tells of could not have 
 been, and we never know a word of it, when Mary- 
 Dora " 
 
 174. " Maridora — that is the name! " Olivieri nodded 
 decisively. " Maridora ! " 
 
 175. " She was named after both of her grandmothers," 
 Cornelia explained to the roomful, " and always called 
 by the two names so as to show no partiality. Her father 
 and mother each wanted to please the other. They 
 brought her to us when she was a little mite of a girl, be- 
 cause they wanted she should have good care and country 
 air, and their work in the city made it so they couldn't look 
 after her. They came down together to see her every little 
 while, and how they did wonder to find her grow so fast ! 
 My sister and I had other children to board. We did that 
 for something to do after Clementine gave up teaching 
 school. We had the museum, with all the curiosities my 
 father brought home from his voyages, but after every- 
 body round had seen it, not much came in from that. So 
 there were some years when we made out by taking chil- 
 dren to board, and we had Mary-Dora from the age of 
 two. We didn't expect to keep her on and on till she 
 grew up. But we did, as it turned out; we brought her 
 up. She was like our own child. Anybody who'd ever 
 seen her at home would know that she'd no more have had 
 a secret from us two Tell your friend, Miss Villars." 
 
 176. " Could she sing ? " asked Sally. 
 
 174. Note the strength of confirmation given to Olivieri's previ- 
 ous assertion by this interjected exclamation. The impression is 
 stronger than any direction assertion could have made it. — Mark 
 the little touches of personal recollection, and how they add to 
 our realization of and sympathy for the child.
 
 366 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 177. " 'No, that's just what I wanted you should tell 
 him. She sang, just as any girl does, working round the 
 house, nothing to speak of. You'd never notice it any 
 more, I guess, than as if I should sing. We've always 
 been meaning to get a parlor-organ, but we haven't got it 
 yet. All she knew was hymns and the things young folks 
 pick up from one another. She told us when she came 
 home that she'd been taking piano lessons, and seemed 
 dreadfully pleased with that, but not a word about sing- 
 ing." 
 
 178. " The case is perfectly clear," Sally turned away 
 from Miss Cornelia as if all that was necessary had been 
 heard from this witness. 
 
 179. But Cornelia, having once overleaped the barrier 
 of shyness and climbed up on the stage, could not, with 
 the impetus of her daring act unspent, so soon descend 
 again, with, particularly, the sense upon her of the audi- 
 ence's friendliness. She spoke to them now collectively 
 rather than directly to Sally, and went on to fulfil the 
 pious duty, as she seemed to feel it, toward the dead, of 
 making them known and understood. 
 
 180. " Till she w'as near seventeen she was contented 
 as could be with us, exactly as if she had no other family. 
 But one day when there was nothing we were expecting 
 less she said she wanted to go to the city and see her 
 father, and the little brother that she had never seen. 
 
 180. The reader's sensibility is trusted to comprehend the girl's 
 eagerness — largely affection, part curiosity, part the longing of 
 lonesomeness and awaking genius — its genuine rustic, unspoiled 
 simplicity, and the inevitable chilling of her tender spirit by 
 the reception these things would meet among folk of the Vil- 
 lars kind. But to reinforce or direct the reader's intuition, pars. 
 184, 211, and 216 contain passages expressive of the fact.
 
 An Epilogue 367 
 
 We didn't oppose her, because her father's business had 
 kept him for quite some time from coming to Willow 
 Creek. It was natural, we realized, too, she should have 
 a hankering to see the city and how people live there and 
 what it's like. We wanted she should write and ask first. 
 But she begged us not to make her. She said she would 
 like to surprise them. She was dreadfully excited about 
 the idea of surprising them. We suspected that, besides 
 wanting to see the world, she wanted to go away from 
 Willow Creek till she could make up her mind about 
 Nahum, without him near." 
 
 181. Miss Cornelia looked over at beautiful Eose 
 Lancey, and nodded to her very amicably, smiling. 
 " Nahum is my nephew, and I don't think I've ever known 
 a young man to set his heart so powerfully on a girl. 
 Mary-Dora was fond of him all the time she was growing 
 up, but when they were old enough so that he wanted to 
 marry her, it had the result it sometimes does, of making 
 her want to get away from him. He was twenty-one, and 
 she was only seventeen, you see, and as much of a child 
 as she had ever been. She seemed to have grown afraid 
 of him, though she was fond of him, too, and it hurt her 
 terribly to do anything that would hurt him. Clementine 
 and I understood how it was, and sympathized with what 
 we knew came from just youngness. We thought it would 
 be best for both to let her find out how she really felt about 
 Nahum, give her a chance to see other men and other 
 ways, and to see if she thought anybody would ever think 
 as much of her as ISTahum surely did." 
 
 182. As with the story-teller's simple art, she paused 
 a moment, an unguarded sound came from Peter Villars, 
 a groaning sigh that he converted into a cough as ho
 
 368 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 shifted position, throwing the otlier leg across the other 
 knee. 
 
 183. If Miss Cornelia heard, it made no proper 
 dint on her consciousness, for she pursued unper- 
 turbed. 
 
 184. " She was gone just a year. We hadn't hardly 
 believed she should ever come back except to visit us. But 
 there she was, come home for good, she said. It wasn't 
 that she had been disappointed with the city, — you should 
 have heard her run on about it ! all the fine things, the 
 grand doings, the dresses, — but she was a country-girl, 
 and guessed she would be happier there in the country 
 with us country-folks. She loved us all most to death 
 those first days after her return, and as soon as jSTahum 
 came around, looking thin, he had missed her so, she 
 didn't just take him ; she as good as said, " Take me ! " 
 He was the happiest boy! And we were happy for him, 
 knowing what a good girl he'd got. For Mary-Dora 
 wasn't just like everybody. It wasn't that she was beau- 
 tiful, as you seem to think from her picture, though she 
 was nice-looking, healthy, and didn't freckle, or that she 
 always did right according to the book. But she was lov- 
 ing, and dreadfully tender of others. She wanted so 
 dreadfully everybody should be pleased with her and like 
 her, she would do 'most anything to make them. And not 
 
 184. The pathos of Mary-Dora's existence is strongly empha- 
 sized by the unconscious falling short in appreciation of her — her 
 beauty, her character, her genius — revealed by so kindly and well- 
 meaning a soul as Miss Cornelia. See especially the pitiful fact 
 disclosed in 173 — that Mary-Dora could not take her nearest 
 friends, Miss Cornelia and Miss Clementine, into her confidence 
 about her aspirations, hopes, and fears, because they do not under- 
 stand or even apprehend.
 
 An Epilogue 369 
 
 all the beauties or virtues or knowledge could ever be so 
 winning as that." Fearing her voice sounded weepy, Cor- 
 nelia resumed more stoutly : " But she was no singer, nor 
 she never went to any music-master to have her voice tried, 
 or we should have heard about that from her, as we heard 
 about everything else. But if for any reason which I can't 
 imagine she should not have told her old aunties, she 
 would have told Xahum, and in the long evenings he used 
 to come and spend with us just for the comfort of talking 
 about her, he would have told us. But I'll ask him when 
 I go home. He has remarried, — that's life ! — but I 
 don't believe he has forgotten one thing that had to do 
 with Mary-Dora. Poor little Mary-Dora ! " the country- 
 woman, having got so well under way, and feeling so sure 
 of the general sympathy, kept placidly on after the obvious 
 stopping-place had been reached, " you'd think something 
 in her soul told her how it would be, and that's what made 
 her so afraid of Nahum and marrying him, only she 
 didn't understand clearly enough what it said." 
 
 185. The speaker felt suddenly uncertain that she was 
 not a fool, perhaps an indelicate fool, instead of an inter- 
 esting figure occupying the center of the platform. " But 
 I'm afraid I've talked till everybody's tired," she hur- 
 riedly remarked. " Ever since I came into this house 
 Mary-Dora's been running in my mind, and it seems kind 
 of natural to be talking about her ; that's my excuse. But 
 I've taken up too much of your time. In the country, you 
 know, where we live more scattered, and don't see com- 
 pany so often, we get into the way of telling our stories 
 with more of the particularities. You must forgive me 
 for being so lengthy." She smiled all around her, apolo- 
 getically, and in doing it caught sight of Peter Villars'
 
 370 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 face. For the first moment she realized of wliat, un- 
 pardonable seatterbrain ! she had been guilty. Collapsing 
 in confusion on her chair, she held a pleading hand dubi- 
 ously toward her friend. Peter took it, and patted it, with 
 an entire, if rather absent-minded, kindness. 
 
 186. Her subsiding seemed a signal for one after the 
 other at the table to rise. The hostess stood ready for 
 them with hand and smile of good-night. 
 
 187. Mrs. Gastonbury remained a little longer, looking 
 from her distance at the two sweet-faced country-women, 
 behind whom she saw in imagination lines of shadowy 
 forms receding into the past till a tall sailing-ship blocked 
 the view; then she came to their table and, unpresented, 
 spoke to them — endeavored, in fact, to engross their atten- 
 tion, when her ear caught the notes of a biting, obstinate 
 voice still holding to its argument. 
 
 188. " Nothing has been said that confutes me. Did 
 I say she had an ordinary voice ? An extraordinary voice, 
 I said. The vnlgar ear would naturally not discover it. 
 It had a quality of adorable strangeness, like, one could 
 imagine, a flute of glass. For the rest, Santo Iddio, why 
 
 187. This is in effect a comment on the spiritual obtuseness 
 toward the beautiful that has always characterized Puritanism 
 (and all hyper-intense religious systems). It is introduced by mak- 
 ing i\riss Cornelia's ancestry an interpretation of that element in 
 her character which cut her off from adequate comprehension of 
 Mary-Dora — a girl almost as close to her heart as a child of her 
 own would have been. Observe that this social, or moral, char- 
 acterization is not inserted as a mere opinion of the author, but 
 as an intrinsic part of the narrative interpretation. 
 
 188. The management of dialogue is masterly throughout the 
 narrative. Every speaker speaks " in character " every time he has 
 a speech. Olivieri's manner here is but a single instance. Prove 
 the assertion by finding others.
 
 An Epilogue 371 
 
 should they have known her nature any more than they 
 knew her voice ? " 
 
 189. " My dear fellow, do have a little regard ! " 
 Crane murmured, and grasped the organist by the elbow 
 to lead him away. 
 
 190. " Why ? " barked Olivieri, pulling loose, and 
 turning round to face his friend with the question. 
 
 191. The right answer not instantly presenting itself, 
 Crane, while in search for it, looked at the darkly sallow, 
 bony face thrust chin forward at him, and felt it futile 
 to reply. 
 
 192. E'either spoke again to the other until they stood 
 on the door-step, lighting their cigars. The red reflection 
 of the match at which he sucked illumined by fitful flares, 
 arid to sinister efl^ect, the face of the exile, which looked 
 as if fire already had consumed everything but inde- 
 structibly old sorrows and indignations. The scant hairs 
 of the beard itself looked like black wires that would not 
 burn. 
 
 193. " Eemains the question," Olivieri flapped the 
 match to put it out, " why I have never spoken of all this 
 before. From the fact that I have not, I must think that 
 I was bidden to regard it as a confidence." 
 
 194. Last of all came Miss Cornelia and Jane Banks 
 to shake hands, as proper, — unpresented though they re- 
 mained to the end, — with their hostess. 
 
 195. " We have to thank you for a most beautiful 
 evening," Cornelia beamed in elation over the lovely talk 
 they had had with Mrs. Gastonbury. Mrs. Villars con- 
 
 189-191. Cf. 78 and 161. 
 
 193. A remark introduced as the last buttress aeeded by tha 
 case Olivieri has presented.
 
 372 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 tinned in the fixed smile and mechanical nodding response 
 she had administered to all. 
 
 19G. With ihese last of the departures she walked to- 
 ward the door, 
 
 197. " I am afraid you are very tired/' Sally was say- 
 ing to Mrs. Gastonbury. 
 
 198. " Too tired, I fear, to deny the charge. Miss Vil- 
 lars. But the remedy for fatigue is happily very simple." 
 
 199. " I am going to take you to your room at once, 
 and see that you arc made comfortable." 
 
 200. " That will be very kind." 
 
 201. They passed out of the door immediately behind 
 Mrs. Villars. Sally's cherry-bright train, shining and 
 rustling over the threshold, was the last thing in the room 
 with movement and sound to it before the space of a 
 minute during which the deserted banquet-hall stood 
 empty. 
 
 202. The table in its disorder was still such as to 
 fascinate the eye of a hungry body or a fancy athirst : the 
 glittering cups, with their remnants of golden liquid and 
 colored fruit ; the painted plates, with their rich-smelling 
 fragments; a bubble-thin goblet or two through which 
 
 202. The picture has its symbolism. Here is what is left of one 
 of the great " events " in lives animated by selfishness and a 
 crude, ignorant social ambitiousness — emptiness, waste frag- 
 ments, fruitlessness, futility — sham and hollowness, even in 
 splendor; and looking forth on it, the reminder of one of the 
 victims of this ignorance and selfishness — the picture of a girl 
 beautiful of body and of spirit, and gifted of the gods. (Observe 
 once more that the reader is left to make the application for him- 
 self.) — In par. 201, we are also at liberty to see a symbol — Sally, 
 representing the relentless aggressiveness and force of such sel- 
 fishness and ignorance, is " the last thing in the room with move- 
 ment and sound to it."
 
 An Epilogue 373 
 
 silver beads could be seen more and more languidly rising ; 
 in the twilight under the table, limp and long, a pair of 
 white gloves as they had dropped from a lap; withering 
 flowers, crumpled napkins, a dish of almonds spilled. 
 Amid these things, to the right of it, the peel of a tan- 
 gerine; to the left of it, a fluted paper thimble that had 
 contained a bonbon ; and right across it the stalk of a pale- 
 pink carnation — looking forth from a silver frame un- 
 brightened for years, the face of a young girl, with its 
 eyes of softness, its cheek of fairness, its smile of in- 
 genuousness, and its mystery. 
 
 203. Sally, having ascertained what Mrs. Gastonbury 
 took for breakfast, and, with wishes of cordial sound for 
 her repose, left her in the hands of the French maid, hur- 
 ried down the stairs. She knew where the family would 
 be found, and made directly for the sanctum where more 
 than once they had assembled to talk over a party and 
 congratulate themselves on its success. 
 
 204. Nobody seemed to be speaking at the moment of 
 her appearance in the smoking-room door. Mother was 
 rubbing her wrist where a bracelet had clasped it too 
 tightly. All her powder had come off, her face was red, 
 as well as puffed and cross. Adeline examined a tear in 
 her lace overdress, which a clumsy foot had trodden upon. 
 With those well-known angular fingers she was bringing 
 the edges together, to see how the evil could be remedied. 
 
 203. The conclusive ending begins. 
 
 204. Continues the effect of par. 202, by giving characterizing 
 indication of the persons, each reacting in his significant way to 
 the situation, now that the need of restraint seems past. Study 
 this. Note similarly the characteristic " swooping down " of Sally, 
 par. 205.
 
 37i Today's Short Stoeies Analyzed 
 
 The violets at her corsage hung like strands of a mop. 
 Peter, his hands in his pockets, stood by a table that had 
 bottles on it, and stared at these, whether in absorption 
 or abstraction, while tilting himself slightly from his toes 
 to his heels, and back again. John was at the mantel- 
 piece with his forehead in his hands. 
 
 205. With Sally swooping down, they made a collec- 
 tion of five persons as little satisfied with life and them- 
 selves as could perhaps have been found that night by 
 searching the world over. All alike were suffering, in 
 each the unrest of his soul taking a different form of ex- 
 pression. And all, in the pitiful human way, were burn- 
 ing to revenge the pain of the outrage done to private 
 aspirations in them after decency by doing more hurt. Ir- 
 ritation and unkindness were ready to spring from any 
 one of those mouths which that honorable thing, remorse, 
 set to such sour lines. 
 
 206. They were not looking their most attractive, it 
 must be said, the Villarses, each tired, sorely tried, and, 
 with the strangers gone, not caring a fillip whether he kept 
 his temper or his dignity. Unbeautiful enough to be 
 touching in the eyes of the angels ; except John, who, with 
 his fingers through his hair, and young, gloomy eyes on 
 the fire, was more sad than unpleasant to see. 
 
 207. Sally went to him, swift as a hawk. 
 
 208. " I have to thank you, John," — she spoke in a 
 voice that trembled while it cut, — " with all my heart, for 
 a most brilliant, agreeable, and successful evening ! " 
 
 209. " Let me alone, Sally ! " he replied, without 
 
 205. A trait of human nature is now made to characterize and 
 motivate all the members of the group.
 
 An Epilogue 375 
 
 turniDg to look at her, or putting enough spirit into his 
 warning to make it of any effect. 
 
 210. " What on eaiih possessed you, will you tell me, 
 to go and get those photographs and turn a supper party 
 into a morgue! Oh, that beast!" She put the word out 
 of her mouth as if it had been a beast indeed which she 
 found there . " I could have choked him, beast and liar! 
 And though everything proved that he lied, those people 
 all went home believing what he said. John, it's a pretty 
 thing you've done, a pretty light you've placed us in ! " 
 
 211. " Sally, let me alone ! I'm sick enough. And 
 it's not what they think makes me sick." He lifted his 
 voice to cover hers rising against him. " It's you, and all 
 of us. It's to think of Mary when she was living with 
 us " 
 
 212. " John, do you believe that idiotic yarn ? " 
 
 213. " Yes, and so do you." 
 
 214. " How dare you " 
 
 215. " Oh, Sally," came from Adeline, wearily, " stop 
 pretending! Of course it was true. As soon as he spoke 
 of it, I remembered George Chapman, saying something 
 
 210. Sally is true to her character to the end. (Any change in 
 her would lessen our feeling of the cruel forces of life which 
 she typifies; they are relentless and uncomprehending to the 
 end. In stoides of cheap sentimentalism, it is not uncommon to 
 find the villain repentant and re-made at the end. This (indeed) 
 is the necessary or appropriate result of some plots ; but in the 
 present story, with no purpose of showing character-change, it 
 would vitiate the basic conception of worldly forces and their 
 deadly effect upon the unworldly. Herein is a hint to be remem- 
 bered about adapting character, situation, plot, and theme to 
 one another. 
 
 215, 216. One by one Sally's contentions and pretenses are 
 demolished. We are now getting the conclusive finale.
 
 37G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 about her voice to me; but it was near the time of our 
 final quarrel, and I wasn't interested." 
 
 216. " If you didn't know she could sing, Sally," John 
 hurried in after Adeline, " it was because you shut her up 
 every time you caught her at it ; it got on your nerves, 
 you said. After dad took her and me to New York and 
 gave us the opera, she was all the time bursting with it. 
 I got so mad once at the way you snubbed her I tried to 
 hit you, and was put to bed for it. Oh, I remember ! " 
 
 217. " May I ask were you informed of the great dis- 
 covery, the great prospects ? " 
 
 218. " ISTo. It's in part what makes me feel so. She 
 was such a chum, I was going to build a house when I 
 grew up, for us to live in together, with a room for 
 dad " 
 
 219. " Not very complimentary to me, John," said his 
 mother, caring, nevertheless, to protect him ; " but isn't it 
 reason enough why you shouldn't blame yourself on her 
 account ? You were only a child. It's you, rather, Peter. 
 Didn't she tell you ? " 
 
 220. " Oh, me ! She knew just how much I counted ! " 
 He stared at dust and ashes for a moment longer. " Be- 
 fore the days of our decline into a floor-walker and a mani- 
 cure," he took up a different story, " I was an art stu- 
 
 220. Even to the end important bits of exposition are pre- 
 sented. In stories presented by other methods, this would probably 
 be unfortunate; but as we have seen already, chronolosieal ar- 
 rangement of details is unimportant in the present story. The only 
 chronology here followed is that of " the beginning, the middle, 
 and the end " of the Villars entertainment, and this is useful 
 merely in providing the opportunity to introduce, sooner or 
 later, the significant facts about Mary-Dora. Part of the success 
 of the present method of presentation is, that it keeps the reader 
 sorting, placing, and interpreting his information up to the very
 
 An Epilogue 377 
 
 dent and Mary-Dora's mother studied singing. And her 
 mother before her was a beautiful singer, they say, who 
 might have done something; but she, too, died young. 
 The gods loved them all three. It's a filthy world! " 
 
 221. " Peter, will you set down that glass ! As if your 
 judgment were not poor enough without muddling it more. 
 Will you tell me what ailed you when you arranged to 
 have that side-show at the supper ? " 
 
 222. " Sarah, there is the right time for everything, 
 says the Preacher. You may think it the moment to nag, 
 but it's the moment, if ever was, to drink, and stop think- 
 ing, if we can." 
 
 223. " You seem all agreed," Sally's voice was heard 
 again, " to believe that brute's story. But you haven't 
 made it clear why such a little blabber as Mary should 
 have kept so still." 
 
 224. " Oh, Sally ! " came again wearily from Adeline. 
 Adeline had a stupid eye, but, unlike her mother's, it 
 sometimes sharpened to an edge of keen, almost alarming 
 intelligence. " You're not so simple. Instinct told her 
 
 end, thus leading and forcing him to reconstruct the basic situa- 
 tion for himself. So long as the reader is kept interested by 
 this gradual accumulating of information, and in the situation it 
 is disclosing, perhaps no better way of producing unity of impres- 
 sion could be devised for the purpose of the present story. — We 
 may (in speaking of the unities in this story) note that unity of 
 person is secured through the prominence of Mary-Dora; that 
 unity of action, of time, and of place (and to some extent, of 
 atmosphere) are attained solely through the entertainment — i.e., 
 by means of the carrying-plot; and that unity of impression is 
 produced by our gradual realization of the basic situation through 
 combining the incidents of the carrying-plot into an outline of 
 the basic situation. See introd. notes 3, 4, and (on unity) 
 S. S. M., 178 ff.
 
 378 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 it would give us too exquisite pain, — in which instinct 
 was perfectly correct, — and make us hate the sight of her 
 more than we hated it already. She was dreadfully 
 tender of others, you heard the old lady say, and dread- 
 fully anxious to be liked." 
 
 225. " I consider," Sally fired up, " that we behaved 
 remarkably well to her. What claim, after all, had she 
 on us ? " 
 
 22G. " ISTone," answered Adeline — "none. So why 
 should we care ? " 
 
 227. "Exactly. Why should we care ?" raged Sally, 
 and inconsequently burst out crying. 
 
 226. One could wish that the author had given us some outward 
 intimation whether this remark is ironical; from par. 224, it 
 would appear to imply a sarcastic, but hopeless rather than bitter, 
 comment on the Villars behavior. This would be in keeping with 
 what we have heretofore inferred about Adeline (par. 136). It 
 would also gratify us by permitting us to retain one inclination 
 to sympathize with her, thus better fitting itself to the purpose 
 of those impressions which it is the function of the close to pro- 
 duce on the reader — the confirmation of his judgments, the feeling 
 of essential justice, pi'operly distributed, and the gratification of 
 his personal sympathies and antipathies toward the persons. 
 
 227. Miss Sally has been overwhelmed by the force of facts, 
 and has even been forced to recognize, but not to appreciate, a 
 state of things that, to others, seems disquietingly tragic. But, 
 though to this extent realization has been forced on her, she has not 
 surrendered. She is shaken, defeated, and humiliated, but, unless 
 " inconsequently burst out crying " be interpreted as having ex- 
 treme significance, there is nothing to indicate that her character 
 has been jarred from its foundations, or that she herself has 
 been stirred to any great depth beneath the surface, except by 
 anger, chagrin, and selfish resentment.
 
 THE DEFECTIVE 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " The Defective " is a theme story, involving also 
 problem (S. S. M., pp. 27-32). Its central thought is, 
 that the world is so full of eccentricity, stupidity, futility, 
 and intolerance that association with the feeble-minded 
 may seem an escape. Contributing thoughts are, that the 
 world, being dull of mind, accepts mere external signs, 
 prevailing conventions, or the general belief as the basis 
 of its judgment, and is incapable of discerning truth or 
 fact for itself. The problem is, what are the marks of 
 deficiency, and whether the defectives whom we intern in 
 " institutions " are more defective than some whom we ac- 
 cept and even respect for their '' little specialties " ? 
 
 2. The story is a social satire (social characterization; 
 S. S. M., 257), but its satire, though keen, is free of harsh- 
 ness and bitterness ; the tone is that of urbane simplicity, 
 as contrasted with bald outrightness, and its style is that 
 of unimpassioned directness. (For other stories contain- 
 ing social characterization in some prominent form, see 
 " Little Sunbeam " " The Opal Morning," " A Kag-Time 
 Lady," " An Epilogue," " The Last Kose of Summer," 
 " In the Matter of Distance," " The Great God," " The 
 Cat and the Fiddle.") 
 
 3. Its central person, the Defective, is conceived and 
 presented as a man of sounder, shrewder reason, truer cul- 
 ture, gentler character, more equable and balanced tem- 
 
 379
 
 380 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 perament, and finer sympathies, than the " normal " per- 
 sons against whom he is set off. 
 
 4. The method of presenting the satire, or criticism of 
 life (society), is a refinement of the familiar method by 
 which people and institutions are described as they appear 
 to a visitor from another planet. We are shown persons, 
 conduct, and standards as they appear to the simple, but 
 shrewd and sane mind, of a man whose past has kept him 
 free of the influences of earlier familiarity with the 
 standards that he now meets. Their impression upon him 
 is indicated almost entirely through the effect they pro- 
 duce, in sending him back to live by preference among the 
 feeble-minded (description by indication of effect).
 
 THE DEFECTIVE 
 By Fkeeman Tilden 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Author and the Editors, from " The 
 
 Smart Set," for March, 1914 
 
 (Copyright, 1914.) 
 
 1. When I first saw the man, he was sitting in the 
 office of the Mansion House, in Paulham. His chair was 
 tipped back upon its hind legs, in the approved fashion 
 of country hotels, and except for the fact that he was 
 exceptionally well dressed I should have thought him a 
 prosperous townsman, living easily upon last fall's apple 
 crop. 
 
 2. He was a medium-sized fellow, smoothly and re- 
 cently shaved, and he had a soft, almost timid, eye. He 
 seemed to be moving at a refined gait, toward forty years 
 old. He had laid out considerable money on his dress, 
 and it made him distinguished, which is the highest office 
 of clothes. I concluded that he must be a traveling sales- 
 man, probably in wine and spirits. 
 
 3. We got into conversation, and I found that my 
 guess was bad ; he lived in town. He was well read, 
 amply informed, pleasant and easy in discourse, modest 
 in demeanor. We exchanged cards. His name was 
 
 1-4. Note the immediate opening, with swift indication of en- 
 vironment and the definite characterization, expanding also, in the 
 next paragraph, into description of the person. Pars. 3-4 com- 
 plete the foundational indication of what he is. 
 
 381
 
 382 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Orville Stackwood. At half past four he took out a fine 
 thin-model watch and named the hour, saying that he 
 should have to be going along toward home. 
 
 4. " Rather nice cha})," I said to the hotel clerk, after 
 Stackwood had gone. 
 
 5. " Oh, yes," was the reply. " Too bad about him. 
 He's worth a lot of money, too." 
 
 6. " What is too bad about him ? " I asked. 
 
 7. The hotel clerk regarded me with that look of aston- 
 ishment worn by yokels when a stranger asks to be di- 
 rected to the post office. They find it difficult to believe 
 that the location of their post office is not a matter of inter- 
 national interest. " He ain't quite right ; didn't you know 
 that ? " 
 
 8. " ISTot quite right ? " I asked. " He struck me as 
 being all right. What's the matter with him ? " 
 
 9. " I dunno," was the answer. " That's all I know 
 
 5-7. Introduces the problem-question — is Stackwood " right," 
 and are others " not quite right " who pass unchallenged ? 
 
 7. The first of various passages subtly presenting the possible 
 deficiency of those whom the world accepts without question. 
 This is accomplished mainly by putting familiar (and in them- 
 selves trifling) peculiarities, eccentricities, and behavior before 
 us with just enough emphasis or insistence to make us reflect 
 upon these in comparison with similar matters in the defectives. 
 — What is the value of the word "yokel" here? Does it place 
 this " all right " man in contrast with the " not quite right " man 
 of distinguished manner, education, and address? As the story 
 develops, note how many distinct classes of society are intro- 
 duced as foils to Stackwood. Does the clerk represent merely 
 himself, or does he stand for his class? 
 
 9. Continues the contrast of the stupidly incurious clerk with 
 the intelligent Stackwood, and further represents the sheep- 
 mindedness with which the herd gets its ideas. Obviouslj' the 
 yokel is one of those who lack wit to judge whether Stackwood 
 is " right " or not. The idea recurs throughout the story.
 
 The Defective 383 
 
 about it. He ain't all there. He lives up to Gould's." 
 And then he told me about the great local institution for 
 feeble-minded persons, built and maintained by a certain 
 philanthropist for the care of the addled rich. 
 
 10. I was puzzled. Then I began to see the joke. I 
 had been talking for more than an hour with a defective, 
 without knowing it. There may have been something 
 tinny about my silvery laughter. It is not flattering to 
 discover that you are capable of associating with the 
 feeble-minded on their own terms. 
 
 11. In the next three days I found out a great deal 
 about the Institution, as it was politely called by the 
 townspeople. It was undoubtedly an institution. It 
 dominated the village, both as to geography and sociology. 
 Paulham is built upon a hilltop ; and on the highest point 
 
 10. Emphasizes the undei'lying idea of par. 9, because the nar- 
 rator, tliough evidently above the average, himself for the time- 
 being accepted the idea that Stackwood vpas defective, merely 
 on the clerk's sayso and the fact that the man was an inmate 
 of " Gould's." 
 
 11. In effect the paragraph is social characterization (social 
 characterization is necessarily prominent throughout the story, 
 made so by its purpose as a social satire). Note " the Institution, 
 as it was politely called by the townspeople"; quiet touches of 
 signiheant detail like this, indicative of attitude in persons, classes, 
 or types, will be found repeatedly. Part of our pleasure in the 
 story arises from sensing the portrayal of representative facts 
 thus inostentatiously accomplished. As a name " the Institution " 
 represents (for illustration) that mental trait of middle-class 
 people which makes them cover up what are (or to them seem) 
 improper or unpleasant facts by employing designations that are 
 euphemisms or circumlocutions — a trait that has often stood in 
 the way of adequate public understanding of matters of health, 
 morals, and the like, and thus prevented frank and open dealing 
 with the problems they present.
 
 384 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 of the place, with a magnificent sweep of the surrounding 
 country before it, is Gould's. 
 
 12. Gould's harbored about a hundred defectives at this 
 time. Thcj were the product of well-to-do people; thus it 
 might be said that they were the pick of the country's 
 imbeciles. Some of them, having demonstrated their in- 
 capacity for doing harm, were allowed to roam about the 
 streets. A few went to church. I went to church one day 
 with a friend, who pointed out three of them, sitting 
 together in a front pew. 
 
 13. " What woeful faces ! " I exclaimed, and then be- 
 gan to descant upon them, when my friend, with mild tart- 
 ness, informed me that I was looking at the wrong three 
 persons. . . . On another occasion, on the street, I mis- 
 took the president of the Paulham Bank for one of 
 Gould's aged wards. It is a mistaken policy that permits 
 these poor creatures to run at large among other people. 
 It abolishes the only certain manner of identifica- 
 tion. . . . 
 
 14. One day, a glorious, crisp day for walking, I met 
 Orville Stackwood far out upon the Danwick road. He 
 was going in the same direction and I caught up with him. 
 He carried a fine stick, with engraved silver mounting. 
 We walked along together for a few moments without 
 
 13. Intensifying incidents, making the satire more obvious. 
 Observe how naturally the comment is brought in — the author's 
 thought introduced as the comment of the narrator. On phi- 
 losophy of life, see S. S. M., index. 
 
 14. Pars. 1-13 suggest to us the theme, and adjust us to the 
 satirical tone. Par. 14 begins to prepare the plot and its develop- 
 ment. Let the student see if it is possible to determine from 1-13 
 what the theme is, and whether the problem is yet sufficiently 
 indicated.
 
 The Defective 385 
 
 speaking. Then I asked him : " Whereabouts in Paulham 
 do you live ? " A red flush came to his face, and instantly 
 I felt like a cad. " At Gould's," he replied. Then he 
 added, " The Institution, you know." 
 
 15. I was more puzzled than ever. That a feeble- 
 minded person should blush at giving his correct address 
 seemed apart from all experience. An imbecile would, 
 on the contrary, be proud of living in the best and biggest 
 house in town. I took courage and continued : 
 
 16. " You strike me as being an unusual person to be 
 living at Gould's." 
 
 17. I felt safe in saying this. If he were truly feeble- 
 minded, he could not be hurt by the bluntness, and he 
 might be flattered. 
 
 18. Stackwood gave no evidence of being either flat- 
 tered or hurt. He looked at me suspiciously for a moment 
 out of the corners of his eyes, and seemed to be thrown on 
 the defensive. Then he replied, in monotones : " I am not 
 quite right." 
 
 15-21. On the first reading, these paragraphs (as they should) 
 seem merely to be carrying the narrative forward; they leave us 
 still feeling (in 22) uncertainty about Stackwood's mental " right- 
 ness." Considered again when we have realized the purport of 
 the story as a whole, they clearly present plain evidence of the 
 entire sanity and shrewd intelligence of the " imbecile," such as 
 any person equally sane and shrewd as he should have recognized. 
 The satire here lies in the fact that none of those superior per- 
 sons — none an inmate of any " institution " such as " Gould's " 
 — had sufficient acumen or mental keenness to discover the 
 obvious. Cf. 7. — That on the completion of a story its incidents 
 and detail shall be perceived to have a greater or deeper signifi- 
 cance than we realized while reading them, is an indication of 
 masterly control and management of materials. Such skill in 
 organization and motivation materially strengthens the story in 
 its total effect.
 
 386 Today's Siioet Stories Analyzed 
 
 19. " You arc not quite right ? " I repeated. This was 
 simply incredible: that a defective should realize and state 
 his case so judicially. 
 
 20. Stackwood's eyes became furtive. I thought for a 
 moment he was going to take to his heels. But he replied, 
 steadily, " I am not quite right," and nodded his head. 
 
 21. "Whether it was something about the man that gave 
 the lie palpably to his assertion, and the assertion made 
 about him ; or whether it was because I felt that I had a 
 duty toward myself to perform — to convince myself that 
 I was not so feeble-minded as to fail to perceive what 
 everybody else perceived ; whatever the reason was, I 
 blurted out : " Mr. Stackwood, I beg pardon ; but you're 
 no more feeble-minded than I am. You're as right as 
 anybody. If you don't mind, what's your game ? " 
 
 22. For a minute, I thought I had gone too far. Stack- 
 wood's face darkened. He pursed up his mouth and his 
 fingers clenched the walking stick nervously. But just as 
 I was ready to beat a retreat, he smiled feebly and said: 
 " I think I can trust you." 
 
 23. " You certainly can," I promised. 
 
 24. He chafed his lower lip with his teeth. " Well, 
 then," he said, " I am all right. I don't tell you because 
 I want to; I'm afraid if I don't you'll talk. Give me 
 your word you'll repeat to nobody in this town what I am 
 going to tell you." 
 
 25. I promised again, my heart fluttering in joyous 
 anticipation of romance. 
 
 26. "I am all right," he repeated, " though I do live 
 
 26. Completes the opening — central person, theme, and prob- 
 lem are now clearly before us, and the rest of the narrative, will 
 develop and establish the satire. — Note the irony of the situation
 
 The Defective 387 
 
 at Gould's." He stopped and took thought. " You 
 know," he went on, " if they should find out, up at the 
 Institution, that I was all right, they wouldn't let me stay 
 there. I'd be turned out tomorrow, money or no money." 
 He laid his hand on my arm. " I can trust you, can't 
 I ? " And then, walking along at my side, he told me the 
 story that follows here. 
 
 27. Orville Stackwood belonged to one of the oldest 
 Massachusetts families; rich, refined, respectable. When 
 he was five years old he was sent to a private school. 
 There was already some doubt as to whether he was a 
 normal child in every respect. The report of the private 
 school was couched in the language of diplomacy, but 
 there was no mistaking the meaning. The child was con- 
 sidered a defective. 
 
 — the specialists of the " Institution " as blind as the laity to the 
 more-than-ordinary saneness and intelligence of their " patient." 
 (Ranging further, the alert reader's mind will of course wonder 
 how many victims of such blindness our actual " Institutions " 
 may contain — an illustration of the function of fiction in stimu- 
 lating thought upon the world's actualities.) 
 
 27. Note that, if a few sentences indicating the nature of 
 " Gould's " were introduced, Staekwood's biography, with its im- 
 plications, could stand unchanged as a complete, self-contained 
 story, independent of the first twenty-six paragraphs. But then 
 we should not so certainly perceive the satire. It is evident, there- 
 fore, that in this story the opening has a definite special function 
 — to direct our attention to the theme, problem, and purpose of the 
 story as a whole, since Staekwood's biography would, by itself, not 
 quite attain the desired satirical impressiveness. S. S. M., 122-142. 
 
 27-31. The plot is confined to that part of the narrative begin- 
 ning with par. 27; 27-31 contain its exposition. Let the student 
 observe that a well-rounded story may contain considerable parts 
 outside of the portion required for plot-development. — The 
 clouded mind of Staekwood's childhood is necessary for plausi- 
 bility (S. S. M., 90:9-12), since his presence at Gould's must be
 
 388 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 28. It was bitter poison for the Stackwood family. 
 There were three other children, two boys and a girl, and 
 all rather above the normal in development. At least one 
 of them, the oldest, named George, showed signs of bril- 
 liancy. The necessity of getting the unfortunate lad into 
 an institution where he could be well cared for naturally 
 suggested itself to a family with wide and high social con- 
 nections. Gould's was mentioned by a friend ; Orville 
 was sent there. The family had then done its best for 
 him. Gould's was the highest-priced institution of its 
 kind in the country. 
 
 29. When the first reports came in, the Stackwood 
 father and mother scanned them eagerly for some hint of 
 improvement. They were disappointed. The reports 
 held out no hope. " He makes no trouble. He is in the 
 best of health. It will be permitted that you send him a 
 watch, if you desire," After a few years of declining 
 hopes, Orville was forgotten. They could not bear to see 
 him, so he was really dead to them. When the father died 
 of apoplexy, it was found that he had made in his will a 
 provision for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to be 
 
 reasonably accounted for. The means adopted accords with 
 medical and psychological experience, as instances of minds 
 clouded in childhood and youth, but later clearing completely and 
 developing thoroughly, are common enough not to be exceptional. 
 — Without implying a close parallel, we may note a similarity 
 (par. 29) between the forgotten Stackwood and the abandoned 
 Smike, in Nicholas Nickleby, at least in the pathos of discarded 
 childhood. — Note the recurrence of satirical comment at the close 
 of par. 31. The author does not permit us to forget the point 
 of his narrative although, on the other hand, he nicely avoids an 
 excess of comment or insistence on it. The student should run 
 through the entire narrative and determine how many passages 
 of direct satirical emphasis it contains.
 
 The Defective 389 
 
 held in trust for the defective boy. A year afterward the 
 mother died. At this time Orville was fourteen years old. 
 
 30. At the age of fifteen Orville began to wake up. 
 The unaccountable barrier that had dammed the natural 
 flow of his mentality slowly gave way. Little by little at 
 first he learned ; the momentum of his capacity for learn- 
 ing rapidly increased ; it was thought well to retard him 
 for his own good. 
 
 31. At the age of twenty Orville could read the news- 
 papers, could figure accurately, and was as competent as 
 the average citizen of Paulham, though the average citizen 
 of Paulham might not admit it. He was permitted the 
 freedom of the village, except that he had to return to the 
 institution by five o-clock in the afternoon. Having plenty 
 of money at his disposal, and being of a generous disposi- 
 tion, he got into the habit of looking after the wants of 
 certain needy families of the town. This trait was fa- 
 vorably commented on by the townspeople, though of 
 course it strengthened the belief in his mental deficiency. 
 
 32. One day Dr. Richard Brownell came to Paulham 
 to spend a two weeks' vacation at the Mansion House, 
 whose proprietor was an old friend. Orville, then a fre- 
 quenter of the hotel, met the doctor, and they talked 
 together. When he learned that the man with whom he 
 had been speaking was an inmate of Gould's, Dr. Brownell 
 was first astounded and then indignant. He knew, by 
 hearsay, of Gould's institution. And he detested such 
 places. 
 
 32. Generating eireumstances ; the discovery (S. S. M., 89 : 8) of 
 the complication is produced in the following paragraphs. These 
 also provide the introduction to the rising-action stage, which we. 
 completely enter on in 51,
 
 390 Today's Short Stories At^alyzed 
 
 33. These two doctors represented polarities in their 
 judgments of mental troubles. Dr. Gould believed, in a 
 very broad wav, that all persons were more or less incom- 
 petent, and that, with the possible exception of himself 
 and wife, they would be better off under institutional re- 
 straint. Dr. Brownell utterly disbelieved in such restraint. 
 In his eyes all were competent, only some more competent 
 than others. He would raze institutions to the ground. 
 
 34. Dr. Brownell took Orville Stackwood aside. " What 
 are you doing up at that place ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 35. " Why, I've always been there," was the young 
 man's reply. 
 
 36. " Don't you know you're just as capable as any- 
 body around here ? " pursued the doctor. " Yes, and 
 more so than some," he added. 
 
 37. The inmate of Gould's was perplexed. It was the 
 first time anybody had suggested to him that he was 
 capable. He began to take an interest in what this black- 
 bearded, energetic man was saying. 
 
 38. Fact by fact, the doctor wormed the story of his 
 incarceration from Orville. From time to time the doctor 
 pounded on the arm of his chair and bounced around upon 
 the seat of it, making such explosive exclamations as 
 " Damnable outrage ! " " Absolutely illegal ! " " Ought 
 
 34-40. These paragraphs have eoncenti'ative effect (S. S. M., 
 107:30-34), showing: how a case such as Staekwood's would ap- 
 pear to a competent authority, and fortifying our beUef in Stack- 
 wood's " Tightness." — Though Dr. Brownell is merely deus-ex- 
 m-achina, the author conceives for him the "burly temperament" 
 (par. 49 and passim; and see par. 124, n.) that would be needed 
 to overcome the obstacles ond objections to Staekwood's release — 
 another illustration of carefully considered management in ad- 
 justing all the elements to an effective and unified motivation*
 
 The Defective 391 
 
 to be tarred and feathered, by God ! " Finally he seized 
 his hat, planted it firmly on his head and said, " I'm going 
 to whack you out of that place in about half a jiffy." 
 
 39. Orville opened his eyes wide. He began to believe 
 that this man was in some authority. " What are you 
 going to do ? " he asked. 
 
 40. " Do ? Do ? I'm going to see your people. And 
 then if they don't do something, I'll kidnap you." 
 
 41. His people ! Orville Stackwood did not know 
 them. He knew only that he had two brothers and a 
 sister, and that they sent him something every Christmas. 
 The one named George had sent him a cane for five Christ- 
 mases running, and then, just as Orville made up his 
 mind that he could count on a cane as long as either of 
 them lived, the gift changed to an umbrella and had been 
 an umbrella ever since. Thus Orville knew that George 
 was a man with more than one idea — and that was all he 
 knew of George. 
 
 42. But the young man was pleased with the idea of 
 getting away from Gould's. He knew himself to be the 
 possessor of a handsome income, though it was impossible 
 that he should know the spending value of money, since 
 he had had so little experience. As he had grown older, 
 the feeble-minded persons around him had begun to bore 
 him. But his attitude toward them was not the attitude 
 of the townspeople. He said to Dr. Brownell one day : 
 
 41. Observe the mentality inferable in George, a " normal " 
 member of the family, as indicated by his choice of gifts; and 
 again note the fight but effective irony of the comment (closing 
 sentence). 
 
 42-43. More of the non-plot material making us realize the 
 aeuteness of the " defective " in comparison with the dullness of 
 " normal " persons.
 
 392 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 43. " You sec, Doctor, all of the fellows and girls up 
 home have their little specialty — something they can do 
 better than most other people. Some of them can make 
 M'onderful faces, some can pull carpets apart without 
 breaking the strands, and there is one that fixed a hall 
 clock, so that it struck thirteen. And they're very easy to 
 get along with. Only I get tired of them. So I spend 
 most of my time in the village." 
 
 44. " Ah, ha ! " chuckled Dr. Brownell gleefully. This 
 was all grist for him, this information about the specialists 
 at Gould's. The doctor was writing a book. 
 
 45. The upshot of it was that Dr. Brownell spent the 
 last three days of his vacation interviewing members of 
 the Stackwood family. They were reluctant to order the 
 release of Orville ; not because they were not overjoyed to 
 learn how vastly he had improved ; not because they would 
 not be delighted to have him with them ; but because of 
 that awful possibility that the young man might have a 
 relapse and do somebody harm. 
 
 46. "Rot!" said the doctor. "He's as harmless as 
 a dove." 
 
 47. " Is he — er — presentable — you know ? " asked 
 Arthur, the second brother. 
 
 48. " He is just as presentable as you are," replied the 
 doctor, who was inclined to be choleric in the prosecution 
 of his enthusiasms. Arthur said no more ; but he felt that 
 a man of delicacy could have phrased the thing more 
 happily. 
 
 49. The burly temperament of the doctor conquered the 
 
 47. Characterization achieved through manner and content of 
 speech, and driven home by the doctor's response (48). 
 
 49-50. Note the restraint and fairness of the presentation of
 
 The Defective 393 
 
 Stackwoods, who had been in the country since 1631, and 
 were not strong/ They agreed*to order Dr. Gould to send 
 Orville home. They hoped that Dr. Gonld would demur; 
 and they hoped not in vain. Dr. Gould demurred as only 
 a man can demur who sees part of his business in danger. 
 Orville was one of the cornerstones of the institution. He 
 gave it tone, he gave it esteem and he brought it money. 
 But the doctor capitulated to his enemy Brownell, though 
 he never met his enemy. 
 
 50. It being certain that Orville Stackwood must leave 
 the institution, it became necessary to graduate him with 
 eclat. The doctor was not a quack; he did not send out 
 word that he had effected a cure, as some dishonest spe- 
 cialist might have done. He was a sincere man ; he was 
 proud of his feeble-minded charges, and he treated them 
 well. He saw Orville leave with genuine regret. He 
 shook hands and said, in a low voice : " If you should ever 
 feel — uncertain — about what you want to do — a little 
 queer — don't hesitate to come back to us, Orville." The 
 doctor had gone as far as he professionally could, in say- 
 ing that. 
 
 51. Orville went at once to the home of his brother 
 Arthur. 
 
 Dr. Gould, indicating the author's concern, not with personal re- 
 sponsibility in the sort of cases he is dealing with, but with the 
 conditions themselves. A harsh lampooning of Dr. Gould would 
 have been quite possible, but less effective. — ^ The attitude of the 
 common folk (villagers) and their traits have been presented 
 (ef. 7) in comparison with those of the " defective." Now we 
 shall have those of the aristocratic class. 
 
 51-58. First developing stage. Cf. 43. The episodes with the 
 relatives afford parallels to the conditions at Gould's. There each 
 had " his little specialty " and (not being troubled with the matter 
 of self-support), plenty of time to practice it. But these special-
 
 394 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 52. Arthur Stackwood had married, and his home was 
 in the best section of Boston. Strangers do not know 
 where this section is ; but the old families know, and they 
 live there. The meeting between the two brothers was a 
 Boston classic. It was refined and restrained, with no 
 awkward demonstrations. But Arthur was relieved to 
 find that his long-lost brother had no physical imperfec- 
 tions ; that he was, in brief, a well-looking and presentable 
 person. 
 
 53. Arthur had done well by his patrimony. He 
 showed by his investments that he had inherited his fa- 
 ther's sagacity, for they were the very solidest. He did 
 not find it necessary to employ himself in productive 
 labor; but a man must needs throw himself into some 
 form of action. Arthur was considered one of the three 
 best bridge whist players in the Eastern States. 
 
 54. " Do you play bridge ? " was one of his first ques- 
 tions of his brother. 
 
 55. Orville had heard of the game, but it was not in 
 vogue at Gould's. He shook his head. 
 
 56. Arthur looked perplexed for a moment. This was 
 a contingency — a social disability, in fact — of which he 
 had not thought. But he brightened up after a while and 
 said, " You'll have to learn." He took Orville into the 
 library and showed him his books on bridge. " This is the 
 
 ties, though he appreciated them, bored Staekwood; they lacked 
 purpose and intrinsic worth. So with the occupations of his I'ela- 
 tives, representing- the upper crust. Yet these assumedly cultured 
 and highly intelligent folk were as much occupied with their 
 own "little specialties" as were the inmates of Gould's. (Note 
 how, in this imiolied comparison, the author's view of life appears 
 and persuades us, without ever being propounded at all.)
 
 The Defective 395 
 
 best book for the beginner," he advised, placing a thin 
 volume in his brother's hands. 
 
 57. Though an enthusiast, Arthur displayed the char- 
 acteristic Stackwood temperateness. He never played 
 bridge before luncheon. Mrs. Arthur Stackwood was one 
 of the best women players in the State. They earnestly 
 tried to do their best for Orville Stackwood. They con- 
 sidered him, finally, recalcitrant. Several times Arthur 
 came into the library and found Orville reading fiction. 
 He was too courteous to say anything abrupt, but his face 
 showed that he knew that he was in the thick of a domestic 
 problem. The situation gradually became untenable. 
 
 58. The end came when Orville failed to lead with his 
 fourth best spade one evening in a little informal affair 
 at the Stackwood home. 
 
 59. Next day Orville went to live with his sister. 
 
 60. Kathryn Stackwood had married Phillips Brice, 
 of the Brices of Stonedale. Xt was a love match ; money 
 was no object on either side. She was a charming woman, 
 four years older than Orville; her husband weighed one 
 
 59-69. Second developing stage of the plot, affording another 
 parallel to the conditions at Gould's. Observe the stature of the 
 brother-in-law — a parallel on the physical side to the imperfec- 
 tions commonly associated with defectives. (The prevalent feeling 
 that dwarfs are deficient mentally is an illustration of the tend- 
 ency to infer inferiority in those who do not meet conventional 
 standards and are as a consequence marked off as " different." 
 Stackwood had remained thus marked off merely because of his 
 residence at Gould's. Through such quiet suggestion of matters 
 of common knowledge the author makes his story all the more 
 plausible and enjoyably persuasive to the thinking reader.) — Pick 
 out any instances of ironical exaggeration, and account for the 
 fact that, though recognized as exaggerations, they nevertheless 
 strengthen the story. Is it a matter of tone — the exaggeration 
 contributing to the atmosphere of satire?
 
 396 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 hundred and twenty })oiinds, wore a drooping mustache and 
 collected postage stamps. He had the best collection of 
 Indo-China revenue issues ever brought together in the 
 United States. A British collector, hearing of the Brice 
 collection, had journeyed to this country in a wheel chair 
 to see it, and had died on the way home — of a broken 
 heart, it is said. Mr. Brice also had a Canadian stamp 
 without perforations on the side. 
 
 CI. Orville was well received at his sister's house. 
 Brice took a strong fancy to him. Before the first day was 
 over he presented his brother-in-law with a rare Bermuda 
 stamp, with which to start a collection. " But remember 
 to specialize," he warned Orville. " Most collectors fail 
 in trying to cover too much ground. Don't get side- 
 tracked. I made the mistake once of trying to collect New 
 South Wales in addition to my Indo-China. But I saw 
 my mistake in time." 
 
 62. On one occasion Mh Brice came home in a state 
 of pure intoxication — of a non-alcoholic kind. " What do 
 you think of that ? " he asked of Orville, laying a stamp 
 on the table in front of him. 
 
 63. " Fine," said Orville. " What is it ? " 
 
 64. " You wouldn't know at first," was the reply. 
 " It's an Indo-China, with the gum on the wrong side. I 
 got it from a man that didn't know its true value. It cost 
 me only two hundred dollars." 
 
 65. " Bully for you," said Orville, always anxious to 
 please. 
 
 66. Mrs. Brice was not at home much. She was work- 
 
 66-69. The second sub-stage of stage two in the development. 
 Observe yet again the hit at the unthinking acceptance of mere 
 external signs as the basis of the world's judgments. In the vil-
 
 The Defective 397 
 
 ing for the suffrage. At first it had pained the other mem- 
 bers of the family to learn that their sister was speaking 
 to variegated groups of persons on street corners, by the 
 light of a gasoline torch; but when they found out that 
 other influential women were in the movement, they said 
 no more. Brice never said much about it. He found it 
 best to acquiesce without words. He was a kind-hearted, 
 generous little man, and when asked to parade in favor 
 of votes for women, he paraded. In one parade he was 
 annoyed by a number of tomatoes thrown from the side- 
 walk, but he suffered no complaint to escape him. 
 
 67. Orville tried honestly to become interested in the 
 life work of his hosts, and resorted to cunning simulations 
 of enthusiasm, but without much success. He was not 
 willing, however, to parade. There was something stub- 
 born about him. He did not like the idea of parading for 
 the female ballot, and he said so. 
 
 68. Brice took Orville aside and stroked him on the 
 subject. He did not want any trouble. He had come to 
 like his brother-in-law and liked to have him around. 
 " It's not an important matter," he said. " I parade, you 
 know." 
 
 69. Orville became exasperated. " Those who wish to 
 parade may parade," he replied. " I don't." 
 
 70. Soon afterward he went to live with his brother 
 George. 
 
 lage, anyone from "Gould's" was not "quite right"; in society, 
 anyone doing what others in society do not do is not " quite 
 right." Note further that independence in maintaining one's 
 preferences has consequences quite as unpleasant as it mig'ht 
 among the unthinking of Gould's. 
 
 70 ff. Third developing stage, bringing the quick fall and the 
 outcome.
 
 398 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 71. George, as Or villa knew, was the flower of the 
 family. lie remembered hearing — just where or when 
 he did not Ivuow — that in George Stackwood the family 
 had touched the heights. He had been graduated from 
 Harvard with honors. It was George Stackwood who had 
 tackled Willstach, the Princeton quarterback, on Har- 
 vard's five-yard line, in the last ten seconds of play. 
 Every year, since that time, the papers printed his picture. 
 
 T2. George had not married, in spite of his widely 
 known eligibility. He lived in a sumptuous bachelor 
 apartment house that reminded Orville of the Arabian 
 Nights. Every improvement that had been suggested to 
 the human mind toward the abolition of effort was in- 
 stalled in this house. It was operated with buttons. One 
 button would procure more heat, another more drinks. 
 The heating arrangements were almost perfect. 
 
 73. After a year or two with automobiles, during 
 which he had gained much publicity by driving a mile on 
 a straight track in twenty-six seconds, whereas the best 
 former amateur record had been twenty-six and one-eighth, 
 George had now gone in for aviation ; and at the time 
 
 71. Again we are required to measure by reason, not by com- 
 mon acceptance, the value of achievement. Here it is merelj' sug- 
 gested, as is the way in art. In non-artistic presentation, the 
 thought might be made clear to us by direct proposal of a ques- 
 tion — is it the greater achievement to tackle Willstach or to 
 devize (for example) an improvement making it easier to insert 
 the paper in a typewriting machine — and the drawings of the 
 conclusion that innumerable unheard-of folk have far outdone 
 George in accomplishment. 
 
 72-73. Another instance in which " nonnal " conduct appears 
 no more logical than that of defectives; George has every labor- 
 saving device he can find to make his life easy, then with no par- 
 ticular purpose spends years in the most strenuous and laborious 
 pursuit of what for him is merely a sporting fad.
 
 The Defective 399 
 
 his brother came to live with him, the sport was occupying 
 all his waking hours. He was, at the moment, preparing 
 to volplane with the machine flying upside down. In avia- 
 tion circles it was generally admitted that the success of 
 this experiment would mean much to science. 
 
 Y4. " I'm mighty glad to see you," was the hearty 
 greeting of George. " You probably know I'm all tied up 
 with flying, but I want you to make yourself just as much 
 at home as though you'd always been here." 
 
 75. " Thank you," replied Orville gratefully. 
 
 76. " Tomorrow I'll take you out to my hangar," he 
 added. Then he explained, seeing that the word was new 
 to his brother : " The place where I keep my birds." 
 
 77. " I'd like to see it," said Orville. 
 
 78. '" Then, next week some time," went on the avi- 
 ator, as though determined to carry hospitality and family 
 loyalty to the highest point, " I'll take you for a ride in 
 my new biplane." 
 
 79. "Me?" asked Orville. 
 
 80. " Certainly. There's room for a passenger. To 
 tell the truth, Orville, I'm mighty glad you've come. I've 
 been wanting to try out some little ideas of mine about 
 carrying passengers, and you're the very one to help me." 
 
 81. " Are these ideas — er — new ones ? " asked Orville, 
 after a little hesitation. 
 
 82. " Comparatively," replied the brother, suppressing 
 an honest pride. 
 
 83. Orville shuddered; his brother did not observe it. 
 " I'll make a regular J. K. Burke of you," said George 
 with a smile. 
 
 82. As proud of them as an inmate of Gould's might be over 
 one of his aeeomphshments.
 
 400 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 84. " Who was J. K. Burke ? " asked Orville. 
 
 85. " Never heard of him ? One of the greatest avi- 
 ators that ever lived. Was killed at Moscow last July. 
 Fell four thousand feet." 
 
 86. " I should prefer to be like you, George," said 
 Orville naively. " You're still alive." 
 
 87. George laughed heartily. " Good ! " he cried, clap- 
 ping Orville on the back. " I'll tell that at the club." 
 
 88. Next day Orville went out to the aviation grounds 
 with his brother. From beginning to end he felt like a 
 man struggling to awake from a dream; fighting to push 
 away the veil of unreality and come back to the earth he 
 knew — the earth of Dr. Gould's institution with its hun- 
 dred inmates, all specialists. 
 
 89. These specialists of aviation, clothed in fantastic 
 garb, were tinkering with their great flyers ; speeding them 
 along upon their bicycle wheels; leaping oif into the air; 
 skittering down the course about fifteen feet from the 
 ground ; sailing away into the blue heavens above. And 
 all this with the same nonchalance with which Orville had 
 
 85-87. Observe George's level of intellectual appreciation, as 
 indicated by what he thinks a masterpiece of humorous repartee. 
 Cf. 41. 
 
 88-89. Considered as an amusement (and these are hobby- 
 driving aviators, we must remember), flying could not appear as 
 sensible as the diversions of the imbeciles, since it continually im- 
 perils limb and life; hence Stackwood's inability to understand 
 the "specialty." (We ai'e to remember that Stackwood comes 
 to the outer world with a keen mind, but without any conven- 
 tional preparation for accepting its practices ; his point of view 
 is unwarped by previous familiarity with any prejudice, either 
 for or against. Herein is one element of strength in the satire. 
 In such wise authors at times have our society viewed through 
 the eyes of a visitor from another planet.)
 
 The Defective 401 
 
 walked down the main street of Paulliam, swinging his 
 stick. The visitor expected to see somebody killed that 
 afternoon, but nobody so much as had his clothing dam- 
 aged. Still Orville had an unpleasant mental picture, that 
 gradually grew into an obsession, of J. K. Burke falling 
 four thousand feet at Moscow. The more he thought of 
 the sport, the less he liked it. 
 
 90. Several nights afterward George said : " Tomorrow, 
 if it isn't too windy, we'll try out some of those little ideas 
 of mine." 
 
 91. " Tomorrow," repeated Orville,' growing cold. 
 
 92. " Yes, about half past one, if you don't mind. I 
 wish you'd come right out to the hangar, if you shouldn't 
 hear from me. . . . And, by the way, Orville, I've been 
 planning a little surprise for you. There's a young lady 
 I want you to meet. She's just the — well, you can judge 
 for yourself. I don't want to advise anybody. But you'll 
 like her. Her name is Williamson — Alice Williamson — 
 college girl — up to date — Gibson type, all that sort of 
 thing. I want to take you around tomorrow night, after 
 we finish our afternoon's sport." 
 
 93. Orville showed a natural interest. " That's mighty 
 
 92. See 7 and 49-50. The type-persons or the classes heretofore 
 introduced are the village-bourgeoisie (hotel clerk) ; Dr. Gould, 
 " mental pathologist " ; Dr. Brownell, scientist ; Arthur, a Bos- 
 tonese first-family type and his group; Kathryn, the suffragette- 
 society woman and her hen-peeked stamp-collector; George, the 
 luxurious, bachelor and flying-faddist. Now we have presented 
 in absentia the college-girl modernist. In every one of these we 
 are made to realize an element of stupidity, ignorance, and intol- 
 erance quite as unpleasant, and of no higher quality, than that 
 which we should meet at Gould's. Thus by swift marshaling, 
 characterization, and portrayal, the author gives us a sweeping 
 social view.
 
 402 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 good of yon," he said. Then he sat in deep thonght for 
 a moment. " Does she play bridge ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 94. " Bully little player, I understand." 
 
 95, A faint tinge of red came into Orville's cheeks. 
 9G. " She — do you think she's interested in the — cr — 
 
 suffrage, George ? " 
 
 97. " Well, I should say so. She's been in court twice 
 for obstructing traffic," replied George enthusiastically. 
 
 98. Orville gulped. " Maybe," he said, " she collects 
 postage stamps ? " 
 
 99. " I don't think so," said George. " But I heard 
 somebody say she's interested in very old sugarbowls. By 
 gracious, she's just the girl for you, do you know ! " 
 
 100. Orville rose from his chair and came over to his 
 brother. His eyes were full of resignation ; his cheeks, 
 from having been flushed, bad now gone pale. " You 
 want me to be at the hangars at one thirty tomorrow, 
 George ? " 
 
 101. " Yes, if you will." 
 
 102. " I'll be there," said Orville, extending a hand. 
 
 103. " Good for you," replied George. 
 
 104. Orville kept his word. The next afternoon he 
 was on hand promptly. He had thought it all over the 
 night before, and decided that it didn't make much dif- 
 ference anyway. So far as he could see, the intense spe- 
 cialization of the life into which he had entered was not 
 likely ever to prove attractive to him. He had put his 
 small affairs in order, laid out clean linen for the morrow, 
 and had then peacefully gone to sleep. 
 
 100-102. Cf. n. 59-69, closing part. 
 
 104. " Intense specialization." Cf. par. 43, The parallel is 
 again brought to our attention.
 
 The Defective 403 
 
 105. George wanted Orville to don an aviation cos- 
 tume, but the latter refused. He did not have any special 
 reason for refusing ; simply he did not fancy the idea. He 
 had no great sensation as he clambered into the seat behind 
 his brother. Whatever he had had of fear had resolved 
 itself into curiosity. Besides, he had a plan. The plan 
 was to be executed in case the aviation experiments did 
 not prove immediately fatal, as they had in the case of 
 J. K. Burke, in Moscow. 
 
 106. The biplane was got into position on the cinder 
 track in front of the hangars, and all was in readiness. 
 The engine started. There was a swishing of air behind ; 
 the machine began to move along the ground slowly. 
 " Ready ? " asked George. 
 
 107. Orville replied in the affirmative. 
 
 108. Suddenly the speed was accelerated, and then, 
 with no perceptible strain, Orville felt himself lifted into 
 the air. He looked down quickly and saw the cinder path 
 dropping out from under him. Something heavy was laid 
 upon his stomach, and at the same time his breath began 
 to come in small gusts. In another moment they were 
 speeding along, not more than iifty feet from the ground. 
 They circled the field a couple of times, and then alighted 
 without a jar. " She's working beautifully," was George's 
 comment. " Now where would you like to go — any par- 
 ticular place ? " 
 
 105. Staekwood's sensations afford us the jv;dgment of one not 
 artificially stimulated with enthusiasm for the " game." Cf. 88-89. 
 The sensations mentioned in the following paragraphs, being more 
 or less unpleasant, contribute mildly to the suggestion that this 
 is a queer sort of thing for a man who is " quite right " to turn 
 to for amusement. Stackwood, we remember, liked to read.
 
 404 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 109. '" I'd like to go out Paiilham way," was the ready 
 reply. 
 
 110. "Out Paulham way? I should think " 
 
 George got as far as that when he caught himself. He has- 
 tened to add : " All right. But I'm not sure of the 
 direction." 
 
 111. " It's on the line of the B. C. & M., you know," 
 suggested Orville. 
 
 112. "Oh, yes, I know — just beyond the Templeport 
 Inn." 
 
 113. Orville nodded. "I'd like to see what it looks 
 like around there from above," he explained. 
 
 114. In a few moments they were off. The biplane 
 ascended to a height of two hundred feet, and skimmed 
 along smoothly at that altitude for several miles. George 
 turned his head, and his brother leaned close to catch the 
 words. " We'll go up a little, eh ? " 
 
 115. Orville, at the moment, had a vision of the young 
 woman that played bridge, obstructed traffic, and collected 
 old sugarbowls. " Good ! " he cried in reply. And they 
 soared upward. 
 
 116. Suddenly Orville bawled, joyously: " I see it! I 
 see the Institution ! " George did not hear. His brother 
 touched him on the arm and pointed to a cluster of build- 
 ings topping a hill to their right. " Over there I used to 
 live," said Orville shamelessly. 
 
 115. Humorous exaggeration; cf. 100-102, n. 
 
 116. " Joyously." The implication is tliat a reasonable, intelli- 
 gent man may find life less trying and futile as it is lived among 
 the defectives than as it is among some of our " normal " classes. 
 Pars. 117-118 intensify the emphasis on the point j he is making 
 bis escape as fast as he can.
 
 The Defective 405 
 
 117. Mademoiselle Chance played the next card. The 
 engine began to miss explosions, and George, selecting a 
 level open field, came down to earth to make an examina- 
 tion. As the biplane stopped moving, Orville sprang out 
 and began to run. He heard his brother cry, " Where are 
 you going ? " but he paid no attention. There was a 
 clump of woods on the edge of the field, and he made for 
 the trees. Once out of sight, he began to walk, but he 
 walked rapidly. 
 
 118. Twice he lost his direction, and stumbled aim- 
 lessly around in the forest, his clothing suffering from the 
 bushes that reached out upon him. A low-hanging limb 
 caught his hat and retained it. He went on without it. 
 When he came out at last upon a highway, he recognized 
 it as a little-traveled road that went up through Leesville, 
 to Paulham. 
 
 119. It was nearly dark when Orville entered the out- 
 skirts of Paulham. Kerosene eyes were beginning to 
 wink in the houses ahead of him. Half an hour later he 
 entered the beautiful grounds of the Institution. He went 
 straight to the house of Dr. Gould, ran up the steps lightly 
 and rang. He saw the doctor himself rise and come 
 toward the door. 
 
 120. When the door opened the two men regarded each 
 other swiftly. Orville's clothes, which had been new the 
 week before, were rumpled and torn; he was hatless, and 
 there were spots of dried blood on his face, where the 
 bushes had scratched him. But there was a radiant smile 
 on his face. 
 
 121. " I'm back. Doctor! " he cried. 
 
 122. " Orville Stackwood ! What's the matter ? How 
 did you get here l "
 
 406 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 123. " In an aeroplane," replied Orville. 
 
 124. The doctor raised his eyebrows. " An aero- 
 plane ? " he repeated. Then he shook his head slightly. 
 He took Orville's hand gently in his own and murmured : 
 " Poor boy ! I thought you'd come back! " 
 
 124. Dr. Gould, consistent to the last, thinks Staekwood is " not 
 quite right." Wlierein he was like all the folk outside. The 
 satire of the story attains its acme in the unconscious significance 
 of his remark as a comment on the outside world — " I thought 
 you'd come back ! " The " defective " is of course, from the 
 viewpoint of the satire, the nearest " right " of all those whom we 
 have been shown — for even Dr. Brownell, though " right " intel- 
 lectually, had a defect of temperament more serious than that 
 quietist defect observable in Staekwood.
 
 THAT HAHNHEIMER STORY 
 
 The Stoky as a Whole 
 
 1. Subjective coloring (atmosphere) is strong, as a 
 manifest purpose of the story is, to satirize the type of 
 mentality and personality found in yellow yellow-jour- 
 nalism. 
 
 2. The atmosphere is attained through action and char- 
 acterization, but these are (apparently as the result of a 
 mingling of humor and satire in the writer's mood) exag- 
 gerated, at times so much so as to approach farcical 
 burlesque. 
 
 3. There is no central person. In effect, our attention 
 is concentrated mainly on the fantastic group of editors 
 and newsmen in the Nation office. Singleton may be 
 called (to coin a term) the effective person in the action; 
 but Singleton is not primarily the object of our attention. 
 He constitutes the foil (S. S. M., 69) to the group of 
 " yellows." Consequently, this story presents a plot in 
 which the effective action is carried on by the foil, while 
 the persons meant to be portrayed are subsidiary actors 
 in the plot events. 
 
 4. The story, owing to the prominence of a particular 
 purpose in it (n. 1 above), well illustrates our definition 
 of motif — the basic theme and purpose of the conte, taken 
 together (S. S. M., 96). The basic thought of the story 
 is, that yellow journalism is undignified and unworthy ; its 
 basic purpose is, to show this forth by presenting yellow 
 methods in contrast with less sensational procedure. 
 
 407
 
 408 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 5. Notwithstanding its exaggeration, the story may 
 loosely be taken as representative of conditions in certain 
 large newspaper offices. A sprinkling of newspaper terms 
 and other details belonging to newspaper work gives the 
 effect of local color and increases the verisimilitude. 
 
 G. As is often so in fiction-writing animated with 
 knowledge of the subject and a clear sense of the spirit of 
 the situation, the narration and the style are themselves 
 expressive of the subject, atmosphere and mood. Note the 
 rushing description and the recounting of incident and act 
 in the most compact and hurried language — the manner of 
 the reporter seizing on the vital facts and putting his 
 " story " through under pressure to " go up " in time for 
 the next edition. Emphatically, this is throughout a nar- 
 rative of high lights and bold outlines, a newspaper story 
 in newspaper method and style.
 
 THAT HAHNHEIMEK STORY 
 By Akthuk James Pegler 
 
 Reprinted from "Adventure," for March, 1914, by the courteous 
 
 permission of the Editors and the Author. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1914, by the Ridgway Company.) 
 
 1. The elevator had landed young Singleton in a little 
 receiving-pen, not unlike a sheep chute, the wooden walls 
 of which extended half way to the ceiling. Facing him 
 was a door with a ground glass upper panel, upon which 
 was inscribed the laconic admonition — 
 
 KEEP OUT 
 
 2. Beyond the flimsy little coop there arose a din com- 
 parable to that associated in the ordinary mind with a 
 boiler riveting job under a half dozen vituperative gang 
 bosses. 
 
 3. " Who d'ja want ? " 
 
 4. Singleton observed, standing in the half opened door, 
 a wizen-faced youth of truculent air and pale, soiled 
 visage, with a cast in his off eye that gave him a singularly 
 saturnine expression. 
 
 5. " Say, you, who d'ja want ? " repeated the youth in 
 an exasperated tone. Through the doorway, Singleton 
 saw coatless men rushing here and there, apparently in 
 panic. 
 
 6. " What place is this ? " shouted Singleton, at last. 
 One needs must adapt one's self to circumstances. So 
 Singleton shouted. 
 
 409
 
 410 Today's Short Stories Anatltzed 
 
 7. " Ev'n'n Naiion," shrieked the crosseyed youth, in 
 a frenzy of impatience. "Who d'ja want? Who d'ja 
 want ? Cough it up ! " 
 
 8. " Jumping Moses ! " ejaculated young Mr. Singleton. 
 
 9. " Managin' editor/' howled the boy in the door. 
 " Gi' me y'r monicker." 
 
 10. Singleton snapped a card into the grimy paw of 
 the impatient emissary, who fled. 
 
 11. Sitting on a little bench at one side of this annex 
 to Bedlam, the visitor drew off his gloves, trying mean- 
 while to differentiate the sounds that emerged in endless 
 variety and volume from behind the partition. 
 
 12. " Fifty dead in C. & D. W. wreck," roared a voice. 
 " Front page, first column, layout, diagram. Hey ! Get 
 some men out on that, Mr. Bickerdyke. Get 'em out, get 
 'em out, get 'em out ! " 
 
 13. " Fifty dead — layout — diagram — gotcha, Steve — 
 yow — w — w, Smithers ! " called another man in a sing- 
 song voice, adding in sharper tones : 
 
 14. " Twenty-five minutes to the deadline. Hi, you 
 Finklestein, come on with that new lead suicide. What 
 d'ja think this is, a weekly ? " 
 
 15. " Lead gone across," came another voice, presuma- 
 bly that of Finklestein. " Go-o-ne across," he wailed. 
 
 16. Then this from a basso prof undo: 
 
 17. " Jones, Taylor, Wilson, Briggs. Wake up, 
 you cripples. First train C. & D. W. wreck. Beat 
 it!" 
 
 18. A rush of men, pulling on coats and jamming hats 
 on their heads, passed Singleton en route to the elevator. 
 They were hard-bitten, driven, desperate, but withal com- 
 petent-looking rufiians.
 
 That Hahnheimer Stoey 411 
 
 19. Rose above the clamor another order: 
 
 20. "Ho-o-o! Dark room! What the Ho-o-o! 
 
 Dark room ! Why doncha answer this tube ? W^hat ? 
 
 Don't argue; listen. Two men, cameras, first train C. & 
 D. W. Dodgeville — wreck — fifty killed — you'll have to 
 hurry. Boy ! Ho, copy bo-o-o-y ! " 
 
 21. " Glad I came," thought Singleton. " Promises 
 new experience." 
 
 22. Saturday afternoon brought a crisis in the affairs 
 of the evening and Sunday Nation. On that day, the 
 evening paper men, after putting their own last edition to 
 bed, were reenforced by the staff of the morning Investi- 
 gator, published under the same ownership a few doors 
 down the street, and thereafter, until two o'clock Sun- 
 day morning, eleven editors, twenty reporters, nine spe- 
 cial writers, twenty-two telegraph operators, ten sporting 
 writers, thirteen office boys and a dozen raucous-voiced 
 copy readers vied with each other in efforts to be heard 
 above the clamor without which it is, of course, impossible 
 to publish a real yellow newspaper. 
 
 23. The man who first wrote " pandemonium reigned " 
 had just returned from a visit to the Nation office on a 
 Saturday afternoon. 
 
 24. " Mose won't see ya." 
 
 25. The crosseyed youth communicated this laconic bit 
 of information as he emerged with a rush and a slide from 
 the glass-paneled door. 
 
 26. Singleton silently handed the youthful caricature a 
 dollar bill. 
 
 27. " Wha' fur ? " inquired the youth, fingering the 
 money.
 
 412 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 28. " Information," answered Singleton, suavely. 
 " Who's Mose ? " 
 
 29. " Managin' editor," jerked the somewhat mollified 
 emissary. " Jumpin' Moses," he added. " You asked for 
 him, didn't cha « " 
 
 30. "Kighto, so I did," replied Singleton. "Hit it 
 the first time, didn't I ? Now what did Mr. — ah — Moses 
 say, when you gave him my card ? " 
 
 31. " Said for you to go to Say ! Are you a 
 
 friend o' his ? " 
 
 32. " Bosom," declared Singleton. " Just like broth- 
 ers." 
 
 33. "Well," croaked the boy, "he'll fire me if he 
 wants to see ya. Say, you go right in. He's sittin' at the 
 
 big desk over there to the left Here, mister, this way. 
 
 See him ? Fat guy, sweatin' and pullin' at his front hair. 
 That's him, mister. If he gets sore, tell him I give ya the 
 right dope. That'll let me out, see ? " 
 
 34. Singleton found himself in the local room of the 
 Evening Nation. It was a huge loft, eighty feet long by 
 forty wide. In one corner — the one nearest the fire-escape 
 — a little coop had been erected as a seemingly reluctant 
 concession to the dignity supposed to hedge an editor-in- 
 chief. At this moment the chief editor was not occupying 
 it. On the contrary, he stood with shirtsleeves rolled 
 above his elbows directly in front of the managing editor, 
 to whom he was uttering contemptuous remarks concern- 
 ing an exceedingly disheveled manuscript, holding the 
 offending pages in his left hand and slapping them with 
 his right. Singleton's boy friend informed him in an awe- 
 stricken tone that the indignant gentleman was none other
 
 That Hahnheimer Stokt 413 
 
 than Mr. Vest, " the greatest editor in the world." 
 
 35. The object of Mr. Vest's immediate displeasure was 
 Mr. Moses Herengoetz, more or less affectionately known 
 as " Jumping Moses," or " the Colossus of Dusty 
 Eoads." 
 
 36. The city editor and the assistant city editor, 
 Messrs. Bickerdyke and Sooner, a pair of luckless wights, 
 perpetually ground between the revolving millstones of 
 Mr. Vest's and Mr. Herengoetz's conflicting editorial poli- 
 cies, occupied desks uncomfortably adjacent to that of the 
 latter gentleman. 
 
 37. " Horsefly ! " snapped Mr. Vest. " Horsefly ! " he 
 reiterated in a tone expressive of the limit in exasperation, 
 rolling the offending manuscript into a ball and tossing it 
 aside contemptuously. '' That's what I say, Mr. Heren- 
 goetz — horsefly ! " 
 
 38. With that Mr. Vest, turning on an indignant heel, 
 entered his coop and, lighting a cigarette, puffed it furi- 
 ously. Mr. Herengoetz stood for a reflective moment, pull- 
 ing at his convenient forelock, his neck muscles swelling 
 under the strain of repressed emotion. Then he turned 
 with a shrug of his massive shoulders and emitted one 
 awesome bellow. 
 
 39. "Bo-o-o-y!" he shouted. " Ho-o-o-o, bo-o-o-y! " 
 and the spell was broken. Mr. Herengoetz, when in doubt 
 or distress, invariably yelled, " Bo-o-o-y ! " It was his 
 method of letting off steam, of affording a vent for his 
 pent-up feelings. 
 
 40. Eleven boys fell over each other in response to Mr. 
 Herengoetz's call for help, but, although the response was 
 prompt, Mr. Herengoetz had already forgotten what he 
 wanted the boy for, whereupon one of the rewrite men sit-
 
 414 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ting nearest to Singleton remarked that the Colossus was 
 " running true to form." With this assurance the demoniac 
 band resumed its clamor, while Singleton, under cover of 
 the confusion, made his way to that side of the managing 
 editor's desk which appeared to afford the clearest avenue 
 of retreat in the event of emergency. 
 
 41. Mr. Herengoetz was leaning over his desk in an 
 attitude typifying mental concentration. Under his left 
 hand was a pad of copy paper and in his right was a stub 
 of pencil. From time to time he jerked loose, crumpled 
 and peevishly discarded pages, scrawled with such legends 
 as: 
 
 Banker Botts Breaks Jail Bonds 
 Bank Cashier Botts Gets Freedom 
 Botts Breaks Bonds Freed by Writ 
 
 42. Mr. Herengoetz was writing a ribbon strip — one of 
 those startling black lines across the top of page one, just 
 above the red lettering, that give the evening and Sunday 
 Nations front page the exciting aspect of a man with his 
 throat cut shrieking for help. 
 
 43. Having at last constructed a line that appealed to 
 his esthetic sense, the managing editor stood up, twisted 
 violently at his straggling forelock, and stared at Single- 
 ton with an expression in which there seemed mingled 
 astonishment and disgust. 
 
 44. " Good afternoon," ventured Singleton. " What 
 is it ? What is it ? " cried Mr. Herengoetz, his pale, plump 
 visage distorted in nervous irritation. " Well, what do 
 you want ? " 
 
 45. Coatless and collarless, his small eyes gleaming like
 
 That Hahnheimee Stoey 415 
 
 those of an enraged rogue elephant, the Colossus did not 
 invite confidence. His large body, heterogeneously assem- 
 bled, like that of a hippopotamus, quivered visibly. 
 
 46. " Work," said Singleton. " I came up here look- 
 ing for work, sir." 
 
 47. " Work ? " Mr. Herengoetz repeated the word as 
 if Singleton's use of it had been an inconceivable piece of 
 presumption. " Work ? Then why don't you hang up 
 your coat and hat ? " 
 
 48. Mr. Herengoetz snorted as if the question could 
 not by any human possibility be satisfactorily 
 answered. 
 
 49. " But you don't understand, sir," began Singleton. 
 
 50. " Don't argue," roared the managing editor. " No 
 time for argument. Hang 'em up, hang 'em up." 
 
 51. In this maelstrom of humanity there appeared for 
 the moment, for a new man on the job, no more impor- 
 tant task than that of keeping out of other men's way, and 
 even that demanded surprising agility. 
 
 52. It was now the turn of Mr. Herengoetz to appear 
 in the role of critic and inquisitor. With an exclamation 
 of rage and horror he leaped from his swivel chair, waving 
 in his left hand a proof slip. 
 
 53. " Damnable ! " shrieked Mr. Herengoetz. '' For 
 the love of Mike, Mr. Bickerdyke, why can't I occasionally 
 get something written in English ? What is this ? " 
 
 54. He shook the offending proof before the face of 
 the city editor. " I repeat, in the name of the Prophet, 
 what is it ? " 
 
 55. Mr. Bickerdyke, diplomatically non-committal, took 
 the proffered slip. He examined it closely, described sev-
 
 410 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 oral circles around his chair, a curious mannerism 
 characteristic of him, and shouted at the top of his 
 voice : 
 
 56. "Finnerty! Ho-o-o, Mr. Finnerty ! " 
 
 57. " What's eating you ? " inquired one of the rewrite 
 men, who presumed to wax familiar with the gods, being 
 a star. Mr. Finnerty possessed a directly forceful habit 
 of speech and a Kerry brogue. 
 
 58. "What's this?" demanded Mr. Bickerdyke, shak- 
 ing the offending proof in turn. " It's supposed to be your 
 now lead to the bank story and there isn't a punch in it 
 anywhere." 
 
 59. " Writen as ordered," snapped Finnerty, glower- 
 ing. " Ask Mr. Vest ; he dictated it." 
 
 60. " Oh," said Mr. Bickerdyke. 
 
 61. " Oh," echoed Mr. Herengoetz. 
 
 62. " Want it in Yiddish ? " inquired Mr. Finnerty 
 truculently, addressing himself to Mr. Herengoetz, but the 
 latter treated the suggestion with contempt and vouch- 
 safed no reply. 
 
 63. Suddenly Mr. Bickerdyke was seized with an idea. 
 The fact became evident when the city editor picked up a 
 newspaper clipping about an inch long from his desk, and 
 after glaring at it for a moment resumed his extraordinary 
 pas de seul. Mr. Bickerdyke's little peculiarity had won 
 for him the sobriquet of " the Whirling Dervish." 
 
 64. Each circle described by Mr. Bickerdyke being a 
 little wider than the last, he gradually drew near to the 
 spot where Singleton was standing, a fascinated spec- 
 tator. 
 
 65. On his third lap, Mr, Bickerdyke executed a sud- 
 den flank movement and confronted the new man. In his
 
 That Hahnheimer Stoey 41'7 
 
 eyes there shone the light of purpose. With a nervous 
 gesture he poked the clipping into Singleton's hand. 
 66. " Kead that ! " he commanded. 
 
 6Y. Singleton glanced through the paragraph. It was 
 an announcement taken from the body of a longer story 
 that Rose Hahnheimer, reputed to be the most beautiful 
 Jewess in America, whose fiance, Sigmund Waldeman, 
 had been indicted for embezzlement of $100,000 trust 
 funds, would not break her engagement on this account, 
 but would marry Waldeman, irrespective of his guilt or 
 innocence. 
 
 68. " D'you read it ? " snapped Mr. Bickerdyke. 
 
 69. " Yes, sir," answered Singleton. 
 
 70. " See the story ? " inquired the editor. 
 
 71. " Yes, sir." 
 
 72. " Get it ! " ordered Mr. Bickerdyke. " Story and 
 picture. Hike ! " 
 
 73. Singleton stood on the street with his first yellow 
 newspaper assignment held firmly between his right fore- 
 finger and thumb. He found himself accompanied by one 
 of the Nations staff men, a pale, blond young fellow, who 
 had left the office on an assignment shortly prior to his 
 own exit. 
 
 74. " Pancoast's my name," began this youth, intro- 
 ducing himself. '' Singleton," he repeated as the name 
 was given him. " Glad to know you. Singleton — we're 
 partners in misfortune, I take it. Joined the Nation s 
 staff?" 
 
 75. " Don't know exactly," said Singleton. 
 
 76. " What are you on ? " inquired Mr. Pancoast. 
 
 77. " Hahnheimer story," Singleton confided.
 
 418 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 78. " What ! Mean to say they handed you that 
 quince ? You're on a dead one. Every paper in town has 
 had from three to five men trying to land a picture of that 
 Rosie girl for the last two weeks ! There isn't a picture 
 of her to be had and that's all there is to it. Why, I 
 worked on the thing three days myself and I know what 
 I'm saying." 
 
 79. Paneoast's tone and manner suggested that since he 
 had been compelled to abandon the quest, any further at- 
 tempt in the same direction was the height of futility and 
 presumption. 
 
 80. '' Let me tell you," continued the expert. " There 
 isn't a thing we haven't done — plumber, gasfittcr, tele- 
 phone collector, messenger boy, fire alarm, burglary, riot 
 in the alley. That house the Hahnheimers live in has 
 been frisked from cellar to garret. There isn't a picture 
 of Rose there. Every photograph gallery in town has 
 drawn blank. Every friend the girl ever had has been 
 visited. Take it from me, there are just three pictures of 
 Rose Hahnheimer in the world. 
 
 81. " Just three pictures," pursued Mr. Pancoast, 
 " and I know where two of them are. Waldeman had one ; 
 no chance on earth there. Mother's got one — safe deposit 
 vault proposition. The third one has never been located. 
 We've dragged the town for that picture. Singleton. It 
 isn't here." 
 
 82. " Still," Singleton suggested, " there's the story." 
 
 83. " Story your eye ! " snorted Pancoast contemptu- 
 ously. " Why, I can write that story in my sleep. Fealty 
 of the beautiful Jewess maiden for a column of gush. 
 That's all there is to the story. It isn't the story they 
 want, son, it's the picky — the swell little brunette picky.
 
 I 
 
 That Hahnheimer Story 419 
 
 84. " And if you get that picky you're a star of the 
 first magnitude. No, you're a whole constellation. Great 
 Scott ! They'd buy the picture this minute, postage stamp 
 size, for $250, spot cash. That's how badly they want it. 
 Well, I'll have to beat it along." 
 
 85. As Pancoast disappeared round the corner Single- 
 ton looked at his watch. It was 4 : 45. He had passed 
 the grimy portals of the Nation ofiice inward bound at 
 3 :45. It had been a lively hour. 
 
 86. Some time later Singleton rang the front door bell 
 of the brown-stone Waldeman mansion in upper Michigan 
 Avenue. A little Irish maid admitted him. A few min- 
 utes later Waldeman appeared, a tall, olive-skinned, hand- 
 some man. 
 
 87. " Mr. Singleton ? " he queried in a puzzled way, 
 with a glance at the card. 
 
 88. " Mr. Waldeman," began Singleton, " I hope you'll 
 pardon the intrusion. I am connected with the evening 
 and Sunday Nation. I " 
 
 89. Waldeman raised a long white hand in protest, 
 smiling wearily. 
 
 90. " My dear Mr. Singleton," he purred, " for sheer, 
 uncompromising effrontery commend me to the Evening 
 Nation and its enterprising crew of cutthroats. Is it pos- 
 sible that you are unaware of the treatment I have re- 
 ceived from the newspapers ? " 
 
 91. Waldeman's handsome face flushed as he put the 
 question. 
 
 92. " This is my first day in the Nation office. In fact, 
 it is my first day in Chicago," answered Singleton. 
 
 93. " Felicitations," smiled Waldeman,
 
 420 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 9-4. " Thanks," snapped Singleton. " What have they 
 been doing to you ? " 
 
 95. " Much that I do not care to detail," Waldeman 
 went on. " We have been pursued, hounded by camera 
 men through the streets, intercepted at every turn by nev^s- 
 papcr spies. My house has been burglarized twice. The 
 home of my fiancee has been entered three times. At- 
 tempts have been made to bribe servants in both houses. 
 A flashlight bomb was exploded in my ow'n doorway as my 
 mother was leaving for the opera one night last week. She 
 has ever since been in a state of collapse, under the care 
 of two physicians." 
 
 96. Waldeman drew a long breath. Then he went on 
 in a lower voice, almost as if he were speaking to himself : 
 
 97. " I owe the newspapers of this town something, but 
 you will agree, I think, that they cannot claim undue 
 courtesy. For the reasons I have mentioned and for many 
 others, Mr. Singleton, I now ask you to leave my house." 
 
 98. Singleton reached for his hat. 
 
 99. " I don't know much about the newspapers here," 
 he said, " so I can't place responsibility for a condition of 
 affairs such as you describe, but this I do know, Mr. 
 Waldeman. I was given this assignment an hour ago and 
 I came direct to you. I believe in direct methods. I did 
 not come through a window, you will recall; I rang the 
 bell." 
 
 100. Waldeman listened courteously. 
 
 101. " That is true," he agreed in his precise fashion. 
 " I thank you for ringing the bell, of course. I am not 
 attributing blame to you personally. In fact, to save you 
 trouble, I'll say this. There are but three photographs of 
 Mi::s Hahnheimer in the world. One of them I bave. Let
 
 I 
 
 That Hahnheimer Stoey 421 
 
 me assure you that it will never leave my possession. The 
 mother of my fiancee has another. After what I have said 
 I leave you to judge whether an appeal to her would avail 
 you. 
 
 102. " The third is the property of Mrs. Lieberman, 
 Miss Hahnheimer's married sister, whose home is an 
 apartment at Fiftieth Street and Indiana Avenue. Now, 
 aside from the fact that Mrs. Lieberman would certainly 
 refuse to give up the picture, it happens that she is with 
 her family in Michigan to remain several months and I 
 do not know the address. Good afternoon." 
 
 103. Singleton descended the steps to the street. So 
 this was Yellow Journalism — jimmying windows and 
 doors, harrying aged women into their graves ! But per- 
 haps, after all, these newspaper chaps were enthusiasts to 
 whom any means to a newspaper end were acceptable. 
 
 104. " All's fair in love and war," he quoted. Here 
 were love of the game and war in the playing of it. Pan- 
 coast, for instance, evidently part human, had admitted in 
 a half joking way several of the very things mentioned in 
 Waldeman's indictment. And nothing was really stolen, 
 of course. Pictures " borrowed " were probably returned 
 in some roundabout way. At all events the business in 
 hand was to get Kose Hahnheimer's portrait; by fair 
 means if possible. If not 
 
 105. Twenty minutes later the young art collector 
 alighted from an Indiana Avenue car at Fiftieth 
 Street. 
 
 106. The flat building in which the Liebermans lived 
 was not pretentious. They were probably poor relations. 
 Singleton noted that there was a light behind the window
 
 422 Today's Shokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 curtains of the groimd floor apartment. Now, if that only 
 turned out to be the Lieberman flat ! 
 
 107. The outer hallway was dimly lighted. Singleton 
 struck a match. Yes, there it was — first floor right — 
 Jacob Lieberman. He rang the bell. 
 
 108. There was a brief delay and then a plump, smil- 
 ing, auburn-haired young woman appeared in the door- 
 way. Mrs. Lieberman radiated good nature and proved 
 to be a generous soul. 
 
 109. Fifteen minutes later, having completed his mis- 
 sion, Singleton debated with himself whether to dine be- 
 fore telephoning to the office. On reflection he decided to 
 telephone first. 
 
 110. The man at the other end of the wire announced 
 himself as Mr. Sooner, and added that he was the assist- 
 ant city editor. Mr. Sooner, Singleton discovered, pos- 
 sessed the conversational graces of a saddle-galled bull- 
 whacker. He was, it may be added, exceptionally forceful 
 over a telephone. 
 
 111. " \Yha' d'ja want? " demanded Mr. Sooner. 
 
 112. " City editor," replied Singleton suavely. 
 
 113. " Who're you ? " snorted Sooner. 
 
 114. " Singleton," ultra-courteously. 
 
 115. " Who's he ? " truculently. 
 
 116. " Ask Mr. Herongoetz," suggestively. 
 
 117. "What'reya' doin' ? " 
 
 118. " Hahnheimer story. All cleaned up. Shall I 
 come in ? " 
 
 119. "Who put you on the Hahnheimer story?" 
 
 120. " Don't know his name — man with a bald spot on 
 top of his head — chap with the nervous feet»" 
 
 121. " Wait a minute."
 
 That Hahnheimee Story 423 
 
 122. Then, standing with his ear to the receiver, Sin- 
 gleton heard : 
 
 123. " Here's a boob says he's on the Hahnheimer story 
 and cleaned up. Wouldn't that frost your whiskers ? " 
 
 124. A voice: " Here, let me talk to him." 
 
 125. Singleton decided that the last speaker was Mr. 
 Bickerdyke, the city editor. Then there was a new voice 
 at the phone. 
 
 126. " Hello ! who is this ? " 
 12Y. "Singleton." 
 
 128. " This is the Nation, Bickerdyke talking. Are 
 you working here ? " 
 
 129. " I don't know. Somebody sent me out — assign- 
 ment — Hahnheimer case." 
 
 130. "What?" 
 
 131. " Hahnheimer case. I'm cleaned up. I want a 
 ' come-in ' order." 
 
 132. There was a guttural exclamation from the other 
 end of the wire. Then the questioning recommenced. 
 
 133. " What've you done ? " 
 
 134. " Cleaned up, sir." 
 
 135. "What?" 
 
 136. " Cleaned up ! " rather emphatically. 
 
 137. " Your name's Singleton, you say ? " 
 
 138. "Yes." 
 
 139. " Who hired you ? " 
 
 140. " I^obody. Managing editor told me to hang up 
 my hat." 
 
 141. There was a groaning and rumbling noise from 
 the sending end. Then Mr. Bickerdyke went on 
 
 142. " Mr. Singleton, do you know what your assign- 
 ment called for ? "
 
 424 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 143. "Yes sir; story and picture, Rose Hahnheimer. 
 All clear, Mr. Bickerdykc." 
 
 144. " You've cleaned up ? " 
 
 145. This time it was a shriek. 
 
 146. " Y^'es. Give me orders. What do you want me 
 to do?" 
 
 147. There was a crashing, tearing noise at the other 
 end of the line. It seemed that some one had fallen out 
 of a chair. Then came this 
 
 148. " Say, mean to tell me you've got that girl's 
 picture ? " 
 
 149. Singleton blew up. For half a minute the wire 
 was in danger of melting. Strange to say, the city editor 
 of the Nation became calmer as Singleton grew more in- 
 dignant. 
 
 150. ' " Suffering cats ! " howled the man at the office 
 end. " Wait a minute." 
 
 151. There was a brief delay. Then came the sound 
 of ponderous feet and an accompaniment of excited voices, 
 all close to the telephone. 
 
 152. Then Mr. Herengoet^, using the dulcet tones he 
 usually reserved for communion with Mr. Vest, the editor- 
 in-chief, began: 
 
 153. "Hellow! Mr. Singleton? Ah, Mr. Singleton. 
 I am told you have obtained a portrait of Miss Hahn- 
 heimer — the beautiful Miss Hahnheimer. Am I correctly 
 informed ? " 
 
 154. " Y-e-e-s-s ! " howled Singleton. " You are." 
 
 155. "Mr. Singleton, are you sure?" 
 
 156. What could be the matter with these men? The 
 honeyed accents of Mr. Herengoetz were tense, eager, ap- 
 prehensive. There was sweat in the man's voice. Single-
 
 That Hahnheimer Story 425 
 
 ton felt in his pocket to make sure he had not lost the pic- 
 ture. Then he roared into the transmitter : 
 
 157. " I've got the picture. What do you want me to 
 do ? Come in ? " 
 
 158. There was dead silence for an instant, then a tre- 
 mendous roar. The dulcet tones of the Colossus had 
 changed to a bellow that boomed over the wire and shiv- 
 ered the tympanum of the receiver. 
 
 159. " Shall you come in ? Oh shades of night ! Shall 
 you come in ? Ye gods and split-tailed fishes ! Can you 
 fly, Mr. Singleton ? If you can't fly, grab an automobile. 
 
 Beat it to this office. Break a record, man. To with 
 
 the police. Come in ! Come in ! Oh, do come in ! " 
 
 160. Singleton hung up the receiver and stepped out- 
 side. 
 
 161. A big negro was cranking a fast-looking touring 
 car at the curb. 
 
 162. " Where are you going with that car ? " demanded 
 the newspaper man. 
 
 163. " Private car. Coin' to the Fust National Bank. 
 What's it to you ? " retorted the Senegambian with a 
 snarl. 
 
 164. " Five dollars if you land me outside the Nation 
 office inside of twenty minutes," said Singleton. 
 
 165. " Got yo'. Roll in," was the ready answer, as Sin- 
 gleton exhibited a five-dollar bill. 
 
 166. An instant later he was speeding townward at a 
 rate that must have smashed every speed ordinance to 
 flinders. 
 
 167. Two policemen threw their clubs at the black 
 chauffeur as the machine sped past. In eighteen minutes,
 
 42 G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 by a very good watch, Singleton entered tlie Nations 
 wheezy elevator. 
 
 168. " Third, in a hurry," he ordered. 
 
 169. " Can't hurry this here wagon," snarled the boy. 
 
 170. For the second time that day Singleton emerged 
 into the little wooden coop. But his reception on this oc- 
 casion was not at all as the previous one had been. The 
 tousle-headed boy with the slanting eye was waiting for 
 him. As Singleton appeared this youth uttered an appal- 
 ling yell. Simultaneously the door flew open and Single- 
 ton burst through it, to become the central figure in an 
 extraordinary gathering. 
 
 171. Grouped in the foreground were Mr. Herengoetz, 
 Mr. Bickerdyke, and Mr. Sooner. Massed behind them 
 were a dozen or more reporters led by Pancoast ; rewrite 
 men, telegraph operators, copy readers, stereotypers, and 
 engravers. 
 
 172. It was like the male side of a comic-opera chorus 
 grouping — just as the Prince comes in, you know, only 
 there was no orchestra, except the jangling of machinery 
 and the yelling of excited men. 
 
 173. Singleton held out the picture of Eosie. It was 
 seized eagerly by Mr. Herengoetz, who instantly became 
 surrounded by a pushing, mauling mob, anxious to catch 
 a glimpse of the portrait. 
 
 174. "That's her!" yelled a man with a glass eye. 
 " I'd know her in a church. Yah, that's her." 
 
 175. Mr. Herengoetz hugged the picture to his mas- 
 sive breast and for an instant raised his expressive eyes in 
 mute thanksgiving. A tear trickled down each of his 
 plump white cheeks. Three times he kissed Miss Hahn- 
 heimer's portrait with fervent, resounding smacks. Then,
 
 That Hahnheimee Stoey 427 
 
 with a series of elephantine bounds he gained the corner of 
 the big room reserved for " artists," Placing the picture 
 in the hands of Smithers, head of the picture department, 
 Mr. Herengoetz roared triumphantly: 
 
 176. " Three columns wide — all over the paper. Yah, 
 front page layout. Rush it ! " 
 
 177. Then Mr. Herengoetz and Mr. Bickerdyke linked 
 arms and danced together. Mr. Herengoetz was astound- 
 ingly nimble on his feet for so heavy a man. 
 
 178. During this extraordinary scene, Mr. Vest, the 
 editor-in-chief, a dapper little man with a shrewd news- 
 paper eye, had been standing on the edge of the crowd, his 
 hands and a few inches of his bare arms poked deep into 
 his trousers pockets. 
 
 179. The fact that he raised himself up and down on 
 his toes may have indicated that he was interested despite 
 his aloofness. 
 
 180. It was, in fact, the Old Man's story. He it was 
 had insisted on the hunt for Rosie's picture being kept up 
 unceasingly. Hundreds of times in Mr. Vest's experience 
 victory had been pulled out of defeat by persistent effort. 
 
 181. Now Mr. Vest made his way toward Singleton, 
 who was receiving the congratulations of the staff, and re- 
 marked in a tone intended to be casual : 
 
 182. " Mr. Singleton, I'm interested to know how you 
 got that picture. Of course you need not tell unless you 
 wish to do so ; merely curiosity on my part, you know." 
 
 183. " K"o objection at all," said Singleton. " I asked 
 the lady for it." 
 
 184. A wail of anguish from Pancoast greeted this 
 announcement. The star man seemed on the verge of 
 tears.
 
 428 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 185. "Good Lord!" he gasped. "Good Lord! I 
 never thought of that." 
 
 186. " Thank you," said Mr. Vest, smiling. " Write 
 the story." 
 
 187. " Say ! " broke in Mr. Bickerdyke a moment later, 
 " what's your first name ? I want to put you on the pay- 
 roll."
 
 THE WOMAN AT SEVEN BEOTHERS 
 The Stoey as a Whole 
 
 1. Different readers of Mr. Steele's story have given 
 different interpretations of it with which the editor does 
 not agree. The most plausible of these is the following: 
 That the story is a " ghost story " and that Anna reap- 
 peared at the lighthouse after being drowned, all the nar- 
 rative from par. 93 forward having to do with her ghostly 
 return. The least plausible explanation offered by a 
 chance reader is that Anna did in some way manage to 
 return in the flesh and 'that Ray murdered her. The lat- 
 ter of these interpretations does not accord with the ex- 
 planation of the youth's present situation as indicated by 
 par. 1, VN'hich obviously is intended to afford the key to 
 Ray's narrative. From par. 1 it appears that Ray, after 
 court proceedings, has been confined in an asylum as men- 
 tally unbalanced ; and further, that Anna was found dead 
 with her husband on the flats (drowned, not murdered — 
 par. 167) from 8 to 12 hours before the incidents of the 
 final night. This clearly makes the theory of murder 
 (either of Anna or of both Anna and her husband) un- 
 tenable. But it still leaves the theory of a ghostly return 
 at most points unshaken ; the story may be one of mystery 
 and the occult. 
 
 2. But against regarding it as such are strong argu- 
 ments: (A) Mr. Steele is too skillful a writer to counter- 
 act the impression he intends to make ; therefore, ho would 
 not warn us that the narrative is that of a crazy man if he 
 
 429
 
 430 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 wished us to accept it and respond to it as a tale of the 
 mysterious. He might hint it, but that is quite as far as 
 he would go ; cf. W. W. Jacobs' story " The Monkey's 
 Paw " (in " The Lady of the Barge," published by Dodd, 
 Mead & Co.), reprinted in Esenwein's " Studying the 
 Short Story" (Home Correspondence School). Mr. 
 Jacobs skillfully reveals the possibility of a natural cause 
 for each of the three mysterious situations in his story, 
 but that is all ; his emphasis is on the mysterious and awe- 
 some, and these are what we are impressed with. But 
 Mr. Steele at the beginning informs us that we are listen- 
 ing to the story of a man mentally deranged, then goes on 
 in the words of the deranged man with a portrayal of the 
 development of the victim's derangement, culminating in 
 the hallucinations of the final night. So interpreted, the 
 story has power and reveals thoroughly motivated effect ; 
 regarded as a story of the mysterious and occult, it is 
 manifestly weak through cutting away the ground from 
 under the very matters on which it must depend for effect. 
 — (B) Mr. Steele is fond of situations involving forms of 
 mental derangement, and remarkably able in constructing 
 actional plots for portraying them. See, for example, his 
 very notable story " Land's End," printed in Collier's, 
 March 25, 1916. In this specialized form he is as adept 
 and masterly as Mr. Melville Davisson Post has been in 
 the Uncle Abner stories of the induction of convicting cir- 
 cumstances surrounding crime — a fact, by the way, that 
 perhaps implies greater achievement, because the mate- 
 rials of the psychopathic atmosj^here conte are more dif- 
 ficult of handling. As a story of mental or nervous de- 
 rangement, " The Woman at Seven Brothers " is repre- 
 sentative of this particular tendency of Mr. Steele's work.
 
 The Woman at Seven Beothers 431 
 
 — (C) If the story be regarded as one of the mysterious 
 and occult, it is ill proportioned, for in that case the first 
 two-thirds of it are taken up largely with matters that 
 make no contribution to the essential one-third, but rather 
 nullify its impressiveness by confusing us with misleading 
 suggestions of matter-of-fact actuality, the daily round of 
 existence, of atmosphere and character, and the develop- 
 ment of an illicit fascination. On the other hand, as a 
 portrayal of mental derangement, the story has manifest 
 unity and proportion, and thorough integration of all its 
 materials to a definite purpose and outcome. 
 
 3. Hence the plot conception may be summarized as 
 follows: A weak young man, a bit depressed of tempera- 
 ment as well as inexperienced in life, is placed where lone- 
 liness is unbroken, with no companions except an old man, 
 morbid and warped by long living in the same isolation, 
 and a woman, nearer the boy's age, who has similarly been 
 rendered morbid and unwholesome of thought by the same 
 influences. The situation and the persons get on his 
 nerves, and he himself rapidly develops morbidness. His 
 uneasiness is aggravated by the rousing of sex instincts 
 toward the woman, who courts him with weird, strange, 
 impersonal approaches that spring as much from vague re- 
 actions against the unwholesome monotony as from any 
 actual attraction. They are all under continuous repres- 
 sion, unrelieved by the routine of their daily occupations, 
 constantly dwelling in unhealthy moods and entertaining 
 unhealthy ideas. The boy's nerves break, and when he is 
 left alone in the lighthouse, in the midst of storm, he is 
 visited with hallucinations, yields to them, and passes over 
 the line into insanity, ending up where we find him in 
 par. 1, in an asylum.
 
 432 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 4. The story therefore gets its effect through siibjeetive- 
 coloring; i.e., is an atmosphere story (S. S. M., 54: 1-17). 
 The atmosphere materials through which the subjective- 
 coloring is given and the atmosphere-effect attained are in 
 this conte (a) mood, (b) environment, mental and phys- 
 ical, and to a less extent (c) character and temperament. 
 The developing incident and the intensifying matter are 
 carefully selected to present these impression-elements. 
 
 5. The presentation is restrained and artistically bare. 
 N'o Charles-Reade horrors or other sensationally hectic 
 descriptions are introduced, the plain facts themselves ade- 
 quately producing the effect ; cf. S. S. M., 67 : 18. The 
 story is one of psychopathic atmosphere, but it emphat- 
 ically is not a " psychopathic study " ; it is a true short 
 story. 
 
 6. Except- that the fate of the central person is indi- 
 cated in the opening paragraph, the narrative proceeds in 
 chronological order throughout. Introduction of the fate 
 of the central person (which normally belongs in the con- 
 cluding part of the falling action) is dictated by two con- 
 siderations: that by introducing it without explanation, 
 the narrative will arouse curiosity at the opening (sus- 
 pense device), and that it affords the key to the incidents 
 about to be told by this person, enabling the reader to 
 adjust them into a correct interpretation. The chrono- 
 logical sequence is dictated by the concept of the story 
 itself — the gradual derangement of an individual mind. 
 Impression of a steady intensification of subjective state 
 is the result aimed at ; hence disarrangement and re- 
 location of incident would confuse the account and inter- 
 fere with emotional comprehension of the drama. On the 
 matter of this note, cf. S. S. M., 122 to 141 : 9 ; 151 : 1-7.
 
 The Woman at Seven Bkothees 433 
 
 7. The following hints may be useful toward analysis 
 of the (slight) supporting framework of plot: (A) Gen- 
 erating circumstance, Ray's appointment as assistant to 
 the keeper. — (B) Motivating influences, those mentioned 
 in nn, 3-4 above. — (C) Conflict, that of the boy's training 
 and of normal nature against these influences. The 
 woman, being the strongest personality of the three, is the 
 strongest external influence and the dominating plot agent. 
 The most intense part of the conflict is that of Ray's 
 normal conscience and instinctive taste against the fas- 
 cination she exercises over him through the combination 
 of normal and abnormal influences described in n. 3 
 above. — (D) Decisive moment (or beginning of decisive 
 situation), par. 86, when the open door of the woman's 
 room suddenly brings back and intensifies the previous 
 mood of terror and precipitates a stronger attack of 
 " nerves." — (E) Climactic height, the incidents of hal- 
 lucination in the lantern and the wild pursuit down the 
 staircase well. — (F) Outcome, insanity, and incarcera- 
 tion in the asylum, indicated in par. 1 of the story and 
 dramatically presented in the dialogue (pars. 156-173) 
 between the inspector and the boy, and the latter's closing 
 remark (174), indicating a permanent delusion in his 
 mind concerning matters the explanation of which is per- 
 fectly apparent to others.
 
 THE WOMAN AT SEVEN BROTHEKS 
 By Wilbur Daniel Steele 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from 
 
 "Harper's Jlonthly " for December, 1917. 
 
 (Copyrighted, l'J17, by Harper and Brothers) 
 
 1. I tell you, sir, I was innocent. I didn't know any 
 more about the world at twenty-two than some do at 
 twelve. My uncle and aunt in Duxbury brought me up 
 strict; I studied hard in high school, I worked hard after 
 hours, and I went to church twice on Sundays, and I can't 
 see it's right to put me in a place like this, with crazy 
 people. Oh, yes, I know they're crazy — you can't tell me. 
 As for what they said in court about finding her with her 
 husband, that's the Inspector's lie, sir, because he's down 
 on me, and wants to make it look like my fault. 
 
 2. No, sir, I can't say as I thought she ^ was handsome 
 — not at first. For one thing her lips were too thin and 
 white, and her color was bad. I'll tell you a fact, sir ; that 
 first day I came off to the Light I was sitting on my cot 
 in the store-room (that's where the assistant keeper sleeps 
 at the Seven Brothers), as lonesome as I could be, away 
 
 1. The opening sentences give us at once the key to the speak- 
 er's mental state; note the muddled reasoning. Note also (last sen- 
 tence) the " fixed delusion " that is one of the signs of derange- 
 ment. 
 
 2. ' Introduction of the dominating person (not the central 
 person). This story shows that a contributory person (Anna) can 
 dispute prominence with the central person without usurping the 
 
 434
 
 The Woman at Seven Beothees 435 
 
 from home for the first time and the water all around me, 
 and, even though it was a calm day, pounding enough on 
 the ledge to send a kind of a woom-ivoom-woom ~ whining 
 up through all that solid rock of the tower. And when 
 old Fedderson j^oked his head down from the living-room 
 with the sunshine above making a kind of bright frame 
 around his hair and whiskers, to give me a cheery, '' Make 
 yourself to home, son ! " I remember I said to myself : 
 " He's all right. I'll get along with him. But his wife's 
 enough to sour milk." That was queer, because she was 
 so much under him in age — 'long about twenty-eight or 
 so, and him nearer fifty. But that's what I said, 
 sir. 
 
 3. Of course that feeling wore off, same as any feel- 
 ing will wear off sooner or later in a place like the Seven 
 Brothers. Cooped up in a place like that you come to 
 know folks so well that you forget what they do look like. 
 There was a long time I never noticed her, any more than 
 you'd notice the cat. We used to sit of an evening around 
 the table, as if you were Fedderson there, and me here, 
 and her somewhere back there, in the rocker, knitting. 
 Fedderson would be working on his Jacob's-ladder, and I'd 
 be reading. He'd been working on that Jacob's-ladder a 
 year, I guess, and every time the Inspector came oft" with 
 the tender he was so astonished to see how good that lad- 
 
 leading place in attention. — " First indication of the influence of 
 the physical environment on the boy's mental state. — As a whole, 
 the paragraph supplies the foundation for all the developments 
 that succeed — influence of surroundings, personal relationships, 
 mood. Demonstrate this assertion. — Note the distributed items of 
 expositional and characterizing information here and in the fol- 
 lowing paragraphs. 
 
 3-4. Character-indication of Fedderson.
 
 436 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 der was that the old man would go to work and make it 
 better. That's all he lived for. 
 
 4. If I was reading, as I say, I daren't take my eyes 
 off the book, or Fedderson had me. And then he'd begin 
 — what the Inspector said about him. How surprised the 
 member of the board had been, that time, to see everything 
 so clean about the light. "What the Inspector had said 
 about Fedderson's being stuck here in a second-class light 
 — best keeper on the coast. And so on and so on, till 
 either he or I had to go aloft and have a look at the wicks. 
 
 5. He'd been there twenty-three years, all told, and 
 he'd got used to the feeling that he was kept down unfair 
 — so used to it, I guess, that he fed on it, and told himself 
 how folks ashore would talk when he was dead and gone — 
 best keeper on the coast — kept down unfair. Not that he 
 said that to me. ~Ro, he was far too loyal and humble and 
 respectful, doing his duty without complaint, as anybody 
 could see. 
 
 6. And all that time, night after night, hardly ever a 
 word out of the w^oman. As I remember it, she seemed 
 more like a piece of furniture than anything else — not 
 even a very good cook, nor over and above tidy. One 
 day, when he and I were trimming the lamp, he passed the 
 remark that his first wife used to dust the lens and take a 
 pride in it. ISTot that he said a word against Anna, though. 
 He never said a word against any living mortal ; he was 
 too upright. 
 
 5. Shows the direction taken by morbidness in Fedderson 
 (effect of environment and situation; introd. n. 3). 
 
 6. This paragraph, Uke all the narrative, must be read beneath 
 the surface. Observe how it is made to indicate the running of 
 the boy's mind on the woman. Thouah he beheves the contrary, 
 she has commanded attention from him from the first.
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 437 
 
 7. I don't know how it came about ; or, rather, I do 
 know, but it was so sudden, and so far away from my 
 thoughts, that it shocked me, like the world turned over. 
 It was at prayers. That night I remember Fedderson was 
 uncommon long-winded. We'd had a batch of newspapers 
 out by the tender, and at such times the old man always 
 made a long watch of it, getting the world straightened out. 
 For one thing, the United States minister to Turkey was 
 dead. Well, from him and his soul, Fedderson got on to 
 Turkey and the Methodist college there, and from that 
 to heathen in general. He rambled on and on, like the 
 surf on the ledge, ivoom-woom-woom/ never coming to an 
 end. 
 
 8. You know how you'll be at prayers sometimes. My 
 mind strayed. I counted the canes in the chair-seat where 
 I was kneeling; I plaited a corner of the table-cloth be- 
 tween my fingers for a spell, and by and by my eyes went 
 wandering up the back of the chair. 
 
 9. The woman, sir, was looking at me. Her chair was 
 back to mine, close, and both our heads were down in the 
 
 7. We are far enough advanced in the narrative to see how it 
 represents throughout (this paragraph being an illustration) the 
 unhealthy introspection characteristic of certain forms of in- 
 sanity — constant dwelling on what has happened, and how, and 
 why. This story is carried through in a way to convey this tone 
 or quality down to the end ; it catches the tone and manner of 
 the unhinged narrator. — ' The repetition (see par. 2) reveals 
 how this whining monotony of sound in the environment pursued 
 and disturbed him. 
 
 9. ' Note the aptness of the word, and the effect of weird ab- 
 normal questing that it conveys. — The closing sentence indicates 
 the stage of nervous " jumpiness " he has reached after these 
 weeks. (Observe the effect of pars. 3-6 in conveying the impres- 
 sion of lapse of time.)
 
 438 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 shadow iiiuler the edge of the table, with Fedderson clear 
 over on the other side by the stove. And there were her 
 two eyes hunting ^ mine between the spindles in the 
 shadow. You won't believe me, sir, but I tell you I felt 
 like jumping to my feet and running out of the room — 
 it was so queer. 
 
 10. I don't know what her husband was praying about 
 after that. His voice didn't mean anything, no more than 
 the seas on the ledge aw'ay down there. I went to work 
 to count the canes in the seat again, but all my eyes were 
 in the top of my head. It got so I couldn't stand it. We 
 WTre at the Lord's prayer, saying it sing-song together, 
 when I had to look up again. And there her two eyes 
 were, between the spindles, hunting mine. Just then all 
 
 of us were saying, " Forgive us our trespasses " I 
 
 thought of it afterward.^ 
 
 11. When we got up she was turned the other way, but 
 I couldn't help seeing her cheeks were red. It was ter- 
 rible. I wondered if Fedderson would notice, though I 
 might have known he wouldn't — not him. He was in too 
 much of a hurry to get at his Jacob's-ladder, and then he 
 had to tell me for the tenth time what the Inspector 'd 
 
 10. ^ Another instance of the trait of exaggerating details fre- 
 quently found in morbid reflection. It accords, moreover, with 
 the hint of his strict bringing up given in par. 1 — an illustration 
 of the small consistencies by which an author's conceptions can 
 be kept distinct in the reader's mind and strengthened by passing 
 touches. 
 
 11-13. Intensifying psychological episode that in effect is al- 
 most a developing plot incident, inasmuch as the conflict involved 
 in the plot is psychological, as explained in introd. n. 3; on plot 
 and intensifying incident, see S. S. M., 107 : 30-35. On the func- 
 tion and handling of psychological narrative, see S. S. M., 50 : 15 
 and 228 : 15.
 
 The Woman at Seven Bkothees 439 
 
 said that day about getting him another light — Kingdom 
 Come, maybe, he said. 
 
 12. I made some excuse or other and got away. Once 
 in the store-room, I sat down on my cot and stayed there 
 a long time, feeling queerer than anything. I read a 
 chapter in the Bible, I don't know why. After I'd got 
 my boots off I sat with them in my hands for as much as 
 an hour, I guess, staring at the oil-tank and its lopsided 
 shadow on the wall. I tell you, sir, I was shocked. I 
 was only twenty-two, remember, and I was shocked and 
 horrified. 
 
 13. And when I did turn in finally, I didn't sleep at 
 all well. Two or three times I came to, sitting straight 
 up in bed. Once I got up and opened the outer door to 
 have a look. The water was like glass, dim, without a 
 breath of wind, and the moon just going down. Over on 
 the black shore I made out two lights in a village, like a 
 pair of eyes watching. Lonely ? My, yes ! Lonely and 
 nervous. I had a horror of her, sir. The dinghy-boat 
 hung on its davits just there in front of the door, and for 
 a minute I had an awful hankering to climb into it, lower 
 away, and row off, no matter where. It sounds foolish. 
 
 14. Well, it seemed foolish next morning, with the sun 
 shining and everything as usual — Fedderson sucking his 
 pen and wagging his head over his eternal " log," and his 
 wife down in the rocker with her head in the newspaper, 
 and her breakfast work still waiting. I guess that jarred 
 it out of me more than anything else — sight of her 
 slouched down there, with her stringy, yellow hair and her 
 dusty apron and the pale back of her neck, reading the 
 
 14-17. Contrast passage, in which the normal temporarily ousts 
 the morbid. Cf. par. 85. Are there other instances m the story?
 
 440 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 Society Notes. Society Notes! Think of it! For the 
 first time since I came to Seven Brothers I wanted to 
 laugh. 
 
 15. I guess I did laugh when I went aloft to clean the 
 lamp and found everything so free and breezy, gulls flying 
 high and little white-caps making under a westerly. It 
 was like feeling a big load dropped off your shoulders. 
 Feddcrson came up with his dust-rag and cocked his head 
 at me. 
 
 16. " What's the matter, Eay ? " said he. 
 
 17. " Nothing," said I. And then I couldn't help it. 
 " Seems kind of out of place for society notes," said I, 
 " out here at Seven Brothers." 
 
 18. He was the other side of the lens, and when he 
 looked at me he had a thousand eyes, all sober. For a 
 minute I thought he was going on dusting, but then he 
 came out and sat down on a sill. 
 
 19. " Sometimes," said he, " I get to thinking it may 
 be a mite dull for her out here. She's pretty young, Ray. 
 Not much more'n a girl, hardly." 
 
 20. " Not much more'n a girl!" It gave me a turn, 
 sir, as though I'd seen my aunt in short dresses. 
 
 21. " It's a good home for her, though," he went on, 
 slow. " I've seen a lot worse ashore, Ray. Of course if 
 I could get a shore light " 
 
 18-29. Another plot incident of psychological content, like 
 11-13. The boy's struggle is renewed and increased on the human 
 side by Fedderson's innocent suggestion that Anna is little more 
 than a girl; in the innocence which he has ascribed to himself 
 (par. 1), Johnson had not before recognized awaredly Anna's 
 comparative youth, but has been looking on her in the light of 
 Fedderson's wife, necessarily remote from and indifferent to him. 
 The new realization puts her in a different light and increases 
 his interest in her.
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 441 
 
 22. " Kingdom Gome's a shore light." 
 
 23. He looked at me out of his deep-set eyes, and then 
 he turned them around the light-room, where he'd been so 
 long. 
 
 24. " No," said he, wagging his head. " It ain't for 
 such as me." 
 
 25. I never saw so humble a man. 
 
 26. " But look here," he went on, more cheerful. " As 
 I was telling her just now, a month from yesterday's our 
 fourth anniversary, and I'm going to take her ashore for 
 the day and give her a holiday — new hat and everything. 
 A girl wants a mite of excitement now and then, Ray." 
 
 27. There it was again, that " girl." It gave me the 
 fidgets^ sir. I had to do something about it. It's close 
 quarters in a light for last names, and I'd taken to calling 
 him Uncle Matt soon after I came. Now, when I was at 
 table that noon, I spoke over to where she was standing 
 by the stove, getting him another help of chowder. 
 
 28. " I guess I'll have some, too, Aunt Anna," said I, 
 matter of fact. 
 
 29. She never said a word nor gave a sign — just stood 
 there kind of round-shouldered, dipping the chowder. 
 And that night at prayers I hitched my chair around the 
 table, with its back the other way. 
 
 30. You get awful lazy in a light-house, some ways. 
 No matter how much tinkering you've got, there's still a 
 
 30. A paragraph that is concerned partly with mere stage-set, 
 partly with further emphasis of motivating environment, partly 
 with suggestion of character-qualities (in Johnson), but descrip- 
 tive in method; note its placing between two significant stages of 
 the actional narration (i.e., occupying one of the "valleys" or 
 points of suspended interest in the course of the action). The
 
 442 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 lot of time, and there's siu-li a thing as too inueh reading. 
 The changes in weather get monotonons, too, by and by ; 
 the light bnrns the same on a thick night as it does on a 
 fair one. Of course there's the ships, north-bound, south- 
 bound — wind-jammers, freighters, passenger-boats full of 
 people. In the watches at night you can see their lights 
 go by, and wonder what they are, how they're laden, where 
 they'll fetch up, and all. I used to do that almost every 
 evening when it was my first watch, sitting out on the 
 walk-around up there with my legs hanging over the edge 
 and my chin propped on the railing — lazy. The Boston 
 boat was the prettiest to see, with her three tiers of port- 
 holes lit, like a string of pearls wrapped round and round 
 a woman's neck — well away, too, for the ledge must have 
 made a couple of hundred fathoms off the Light, like 
 a white dog-tooth of a breaker, even on the darkest 
 night. 
 
 31. Well, I w^as lolling there one night, as I say, watch- 
 ing the Boston boat go by, not thinking of anything spe- 
 cial, when I heard the door on the other side of the tower 
 open and footsteps coming around to me. 
 
 32. By and by I nodded toward the boat and passed the 
 remark that she was fetching in uncommon close tonight. 
 No answer. I made nothing of that, for oftentimes Fed- 
 
 faneiful and imaginative — or if one prefer, the dreamy — tendency 
 of Johnson's mind is here made evident ; and this quality prepares 
 us for and helps us to appreciate the eongruity or naturalness 
 of the poetic expressions which his unbalanced wits frame as 
 Anna's responses to him when she appears in his period of hal- 
 lucination (see especially pars. 139-151). Note therefore the 
 preparatory, or motivating, function of the present passage. 
 
 32 ff. The boy's shyness, inexperience, and lack of knowledge 
 how to deal with common situations in life, are here developed;
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 443 
 
 derson wouldn't answer, and after I'd watched the lights 
 crawling on through the dark a spell, just to make con- 
 versation I said I guessed there'd be a bit of weather be- 
 fore long. 
 
 33. " I've noticed," said I, " when there's weather 
 coming on, and the wind in the northeast, you can hear 
 the orchestra playing aboard of her just over there. I 
 make it out now. Do you ? " 
 
 34. " Yes. Oh— yes ! / hear it all right! " 
 
 35. You can imagine I started. It Avasn't him, but 
 her. And there was something in the way she said that 
 speech, sir — something — well — unnatural. Like a hungry 
 animal snapping at a person's hand. 
 
 36. I turned and looked at her sidewise. She was 
 standing by the railing, leaning a little outward, the top 
 of her from the waist picked out bright by the lens behind 
 her. I didn't know what in the world to say, and yet I 
 had a feeling I ought not to sit there mum. 
 
 37. " I wonder," said I, '' what that captain's thinking 
 of, fetching in so handy tonight. It's no way. I tell you, 
 if 'twasn't for this light, she'd go to work and pile up on 
 the ledge some thick night " 
 
 38. She turned at that and stared straight into the 
 lens. I didn't like the look of her face. Somehow, with 
 its edges cut hard all around and its two eyes closed down 
 to slits, like a cat's, it made a kind of mask. 
 
 39. " And then," I went on, uneasy enough — " and 
 
 Anna's longings are indicated, and the bent of her particular mor- 
 bidity shown (49-51) ; Johnson's recoil from the fascination of the 
 woman in person, and from the passionate intensity of her 
 moodiness represented (he is not able to grapple with such 
 strange manifestations of life).
 
 444 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 then wliere'd all tlicir music be of a sudden, and their 
 goings-on and their singing " 
 
 40. " And dancing ! " She clipped me off so quick it 
 took my breath. 
 
 41. "D-d-dancing?" said I. 
 
 42. " That's dance-music," said she. She was looking 
 at the boat again. 
 
 43. " How do you know ? " I felt I had to keep on 
 talking. 
 
 44. Well, sir — she laughed. I looked at her. She had 
 on a shawl of some stuff or other that shined in the light ; 
 she had it pulled tight around her with her two hands 
 in front of her breast, and I saw her shoulders swaying 
 in tune. 
 
 45. " How do I know? " she cried. Then she laughed 
 again, the same kind of a laugh. It was queer, sir, to see 
 her, and to hear her. She turned, as quick as that, and 
 leaned toward me. " Don't you know how to dance, Ray ? " 
 said she. 
 
 46. " N-no," I managed, and I was going to say " Aunt 
 Anna," but the thing choked in my throat. I tell you she 
 was looking square at me all the time with her two eyes' 
 and moving with the music as if she didn't know it. By 
 Heavens, sir, it came over me of a sudden that she wasn't 
 so bad looking, after all. I guess I must have sounded 
 like a fool. 
 
 47. " You — you see," said I, " she's cleared the rip 
 there now, and the music's gone. You — you — hear ? " 
 
 48. " Yes," said she, turning back slow. " That's 
 where it stops every night — night after night — it stops 
 just there — at the rip." 
 
 49. When she spoke again her voice was different. I
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 445 
 
 never heard the like of it, thin and taut as a thread. It 
 made me shiver, sir. 
 
 50. " I hate 'em ! " That's what she said. " I hate 
 'em all. I'd like to see 'em dead. I'd love to see 'em torn 
 apart on the rocks, night after night. I could bathe my 
 hands in their blood, night after night." 
 
 51. And do you know, sir, I saw it with my own eyes, 
 her hands moving in each other above the rail. But it 
 was her voice, though. I didn't know what to do, or what 
 to say, so I poked my head through the railing and looked 
 down at the water. I don't think I'm a coward, sir, but 
 it was like a cold — ice-cold — hand, taking hold of my 
 beating heart. 
 
 52. When I looked up finally, she was gone. By and 
 by I went in and had a look at the lamp, hardly knowing 
 what I was about. Then, seeing by my watch it was time 
 for the old man to come on duty, I started to go below. 
 In the Seven Brothers, you understand, the stair goes 
 down in a spiral through a well against the south wall, and 
 first there's the door to the keeper's room, and then you 
 come to another, and that's the living-room, and then down 
 to the store-room. And at night, if you don't carry a 
 lantern, it's as black as the pit. 
 
 53. Well, down I went, sliding my hand along the rail, 
 and as usual I stopped to give a rap on the keeper's door, 
 in case he was taking a nap after supper. Sometimes he 
 did. 
 
 54. I stood there, blind as a bat, with my mind still 
 up on the walk-around. There was no answer to my knock. 
 
 52-58. Another psyehologieal intensifying-plot developing inci- 
 dent, like those of 11-13 and 18-29. Par. 55 affords motivation 
 for the effect of par. 86,
 
 44G Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 I hadn't expected any. Just from liabit, and with my 
 right foot already hanging down for the next step, I 
 reached out to give the door one more tap for luck. 
 
 55. Do you know, sir, my hand didn't fetch up on 
 anything. The door had been there a second before, and 
 now the door wasn't there. My hand just went on going 
 through the dark, on and on, and I didn't seem to have 
 sense or power enough to stop it. There didn't seem any 
 air in the well to breathe, and my ears were drumming 
 to the surf — that's how scared I was. And then my hand 
 touched the flesh of a face, and something in the dark 
 said, '' Oh ! " no louder than a sigh. 
 
 56. Next thing I know, sir, I was down in the living- 
 room, warm and yellows-lit, with Fedderson cocking his 
 head at me across the table, where he was at that eternal 
 Jacob's-ladder of his. 
 
 57. "What's the matter, Eay?" said he. "Lord's 
 sake, Eay! " 
 
 58. " I^othing," said I. Then I think I told him I was 
 sick. That night I wrote a letter to A. L. Peters, the 
 grain-dealer in Duxbury, asking for a job — even though it 
 wouldn't go ashore for a couple of wrecks, just the writing 
 of it made me feel better. 
 
 59. It's hard to tell you how those two weeks went by. 
 I don't know why, but I felt like hiding in a corner all 
 the time. I had to come to meals. But I didn't look at 
 her, though, not once, unless it was by accident. Fedder- 
 son thought I was still ailing and nagged me to death 
 with advice and so on. One thing I too'k care not to do, 
 I can tell you, and that was to knock on his door till I'd 
 
 59. Coneentrative : continued mood.
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 447 
 
 made certain be wasn't below in tbe living-room — tbough 
 I was tempted to. 
 
 GO. Yes, sir; that's a queer tbing, and I wouldn't tell 
 you if I badu't set out to give you tbe trutb. Nigbt after 
 nigbt, stopj)ing tbere on tbe landing in tbat black pit, tbe 
 air gone out of my lungs and tbe surf drumming in my 
 ears and sweat standing cold on my neck — and one band 
 lifting up in tbe air — God forgive me, sir ! Maybe I did 
 wrong not to look at ber more, drooping about ber work 
 in ber gingbam apron, witb ber bair stringing. 
 
 61. Wben tbe Inspector came off witb tbe tender, tbat 
 time, I told bim I was tbrougb. Tbat's wben be took tbe 
 dislike to me, I guess, for be looked at me kind of sneer- 
 ing and said, soft as I was, I'd bave to put up witb it till 
 next relief. And tben, said be, tbere'd be a wbole bouse- 
 cleaning at Seven Brothers because be'd gotten Fedderson 
 tbe bertb at Kingdom Come. And witb tbat be slapped 
 tbe old man on tbe back. 
 
 62. I wisb you could bave seen Fedderson, sir. He 
 sat down on my cot as if bis knees bad given 'way. Happy ? 
 You'd tbink be'd be bappy, witb all bis dreams come true. 
 Yes, be was bappy, beaming all over — for a minute. 
 Tben, sir, be began to sbrivel up. It was like seeing a 
 
 60. Continues the effect of 59; reveals anew the direction in 
 which his thoughts ran, and keeps his disturbed state of mind 
 before us. 
 
 61. " A whole house-cleanino' " : The inspector regarded Ray 
 as " soft " and flighty — undependable — and realized that Anna 
 was dangerous about a lighthouse, owing to her angry and re- 
 vengeful moodiness (she might do something to cause a wreck; 
 pars. 50 and 70-74). 
 
 62-66. Impressive instance of the warped feelings developed in 
 Fedderson (environmental influence, as throughout the story).
 
 448 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 man cut down in bis i)rinic before your eyes. He began 
 to wag his head. 
 
 03. " ]^o/' said he. " 'No, no; it's not for such as me. 
 I'm good enough for Seven Brothers, and that's all, Mr. 
 Bayliss. That's all." 
 
 64. And for all the Inspector could say, that's what he 
 stuck to. He'd figured himself a martyr so many j^ears, 
 nursed that injustice like a mother with her first-born, 
 sir; and now in his old age, so to speak, they weren't to 
 rob him of it. Fedderson was going to w^ear out his life 
 in a second-class light, and folks would talk — that was his 
 idea. I heard him hailing down as the tender was casting 
 off: 
 
 65. " See you tomorrow, Mr. Bayliss. Yep. Coming 
 ashore with the w'ife for a spree. Anniversary. Yep." 
 
 66. But he didn't sound much like a spree. They had 
 robbed him, partly, after all. I wondered what she 
 thought about it. I didn't know till night. She didn't 
 show up to supper, which Fedderson and I got ourselves 
 — had a headache, he said. It was my early watch. I 
 went and lit up and came back to read a spell. He was 
 finishing off the Jacob's-ladder, and thoughtful, like a man 
 that's lost a treasure. Once or twice I caught him looking 
 about the room on the sly. It was pathetic, sir. 
 
 67. Going up the second time, I stepped out on the 
 walk-around to have a look at things. She was there on 
 the seaward side, wrapped in that silky thing. A fair sea 
 was running across the ledge and it was coming on a little 
 thick — ^not too thick. Off to the right the Boston boat was 
 blowing, whroom-whroom ! creeping up on us, quarter- 
 speed. There was another fellow behind her, and a fisher- 
 man's conch farther off-shore.
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 449 
 
 68. I don't know why, but I stopped beside her and 
 leaned on the rail. She didn't appear to notice me, one 
 way or another. We stood and we stood, listening to the 
 whistles, and the longer we stood the more it got on my 
 nerves, her not noticing me. I suppose she'd been too 
 much on my mind lately. I began to be put out. I 
 scraped my feet. I coughed. By and by I said out loud : 
 
 69. " Look here, I guess I better get out the fog-horn 
 and give those fellows a toot." 
 
 70. " Why ? " said she, without moving her head — 
 calm as that. 
 
 Yl. '' Why?" It gave me a turn, sir. For a minute 
 I stared at her. " Why ? Because if she don't pick up 
 this light before very many minutes she'll be too close in 
 to wear — tide '11 have her on the rocks — that's why ! " 
 
 72. I couldn't see her face, but I could see one of her 
 silk shoulders lift a little, like a shrug. And there I kept 
 on staring at her, a dumb one, sure enough. I know what 
 brought me to was hearing the Boston boat's three sharp 
 toots as she picked up the light — mad as anything — and 
 swung her helm a-port. I turned away from her, sweat 
 stringing down my face, and walked around to the door. 
 It was just as well, too, for the feed-pipe was plugged in 
 the lamp and the wicks were popping. She'd have been 
 out in another five minutes, sir. 
 
 73. When I'd finished, I saw that woman standing in 
 the doorway. Her eyes were bright. I had a horror of 
 her, sir, a living horror. 
 
 74. " If only the light had been out," said she, low 
 and sweet. 
 
 75. " God forgive you," said I. " You don't know 
 what you're saying,"
 
 450 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 70. She went down the stair into the well, winding 
 out of sight, and as long as I could see her, her eyes were 
 watching mine. When I went, myself, after a few min- 
 utes, she was waiting for me on that first landing, stand- 
 ing still in the dark. She took hold of my hand, though 
 I tried to get it away. 
 
 77. " Good-by," said she in my ear. 
 
 78. " Good-by ? " said I. I didn't understand. 
 
 79. " You heard what he said today — about Kingdom 
 Come ? Be it so — on his own head. I'll never come back 
 here. Once I set foot ashore — I've got friends in Bright- 
 onboro, Ray." 
 
 80. I got away from her and started on down. But 
 I stopped. " Brightonboro ? " I whispered back. " Why 
 do you tell me ? " My throat was raw to the words, like 
 a sore. 
 
 81. " So you'd know," said she. 
 
 82. Well, sir, I saw them off next morning, down that 
 new^ Jacob's-ladder into the dinghy-boat, her in a dress 
 of blue velvet and him in his best cutaway and derby — 
 rowing away, smaller and smaller, the two of them. And 
 then I went back and sat on my cot, leaving the door open 
 and the ladder still hanging down the wall, along with the 
 boat falls. 
 
 83. I don't know whether it was relief, or what. I 
 
 76-82, Next to the last straw laid on his endurance ; the woman 
 on whom his thought had been unwholesomely centered is leaving, 
 and inviting him to find her later. Pars. 82-83 express the reac- 
 tion. This relieves his mind, and in the normalizing interest of 
 his duties he reverts temporarily to light-heartedness and confi- 
 dence. (These oscillations between contrary moods are charac- 
 teristic of mental aberration ; hence these contrast-passages, giv- 
 ing artistic relief, are true to psycliological experience also.)
 
 The Woman at Seven Beotheks 451 
 
 suppose I must have been worked up even more than I'd 
 thought those past weeks, for now it was all over I was 
 like a rag. I got down on my knees, sir, and prayed to 
 God for the salvation of my soul, and when I got up and 
 climbed to the living-room it was half-past twelve by the 
 clock. There was rain on the windows and the sea was 
 running blue-black under the sun. I'd sat there all that 
 time not knowing there was a squall. 
 
 84. It was funny ; the glass stood high, but those black 
 squalls kept coming and going all afternoon, while I was 
 at work up in the light-room. And I worked hard, to 
 keep myself busy. First thing I knew it was five, and no 
 sign of the boat yet. It began to get dim and kind of 
 purplish-gray over the land. The sun was down. I lit 
 up, made everything snug, and got out the night-glasses to 
 have another look for that boat. He'd said he intended 
 to get back before five. 'No sign. And then, standing 
 there, it came over me that of course he wouldn't be com- 
 ing off — he'd be hunting /«er, poor old fool. It looked like 
 I had to stand two men's watches that night. 
 
 85. Never mind. I felt like myself again, even if I 
 hadn't had any dinner or supper. Pride came to me that 
 night on the walk-around, watching the boats go by — lit- 
 
 85. Observe the lack of food — apparently not missed. Neglect 
 of ordered hours, bodily care and sustenance, etc., are further 
 aspects of mental derangement. Johnson's failure to take food is, 
 too, an item of motivation for his nervous state. From this time 
 on he takes no nourishment (par. 87) — enough in itself to disturb 
 the nerves violently. Even normal persons under the strain of 
 hunger and labor occasionally " see things " under such condi- 
 tions. This is what happened to Johnson in 97-88 (after the 
 shock of 86), but he is still sufficiently master of himself to realize 
 the difference between " the shadow and the substance." Con- 
 cerning par. 86, see introd. n. 7 (D).
 
 452 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 tie boats, big boats, the Boston boat with all her pearls and 
 her dance-music. They couldn't see me ; they didn't know 
 who I was; but to the last of them, they depended on me. 
 They say a man must be born again. Well, I was born 
 again. I breathed deep in the wind. 
 
 80. Dawn broke hard and red as a dying coal. I put 
 out the light and started to go below. Born again ; yes, 
 sir. I felt so good I whistled in the well, and when I 
 came to that first door on the stair I reached out in the 
 dark to give it a rap for luck. And then, sir, the hair 
 prickled all over my scalp, when I found my hand just 
 going on and on through the air, the same as it had gone 
 once before, and all of a sudden I wanted to yell, because 
 I thought I was going to touch flesh. It's funny what 
 their just forgetting to close their door did to me, 
 isn't it? 
 
 87. Well, I reached for the latch and pulled it to with 
 a bang and ran down as if a ghost was after me. I got 
 up some coffee and bread and bacon for breakfast. I 
 drank the coffee. But somehow I couldn't eat, all along 
 of that open door. The light in the room was blood. I 
 got to thinking. I thought how she'd talked about those 
 men, women, and children on the rocks, and how^ she'd 
 made to bathe her hands over the rail. I almost jumped 
 out of my chair then ; it seemed for a wink she was there 
 beside the stove, watching me with that queer half-smile 
 — really, I seemed to see her for a flash across the red 
 table-cloth in the red light of dawn. 
 
 88. " Look here ! " said I to myself, sharp enough ; 
 and then I gave myself a good laugh and went below. 
 There I took a look out of the door, which was still open, 
 with the ladder hanging down. I made sure to see the
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 453 
 
 poor old fool come pulling around the point before very 
 long now. 
 
 89. My boots were hurting a little, and, taking them 
 oif, I lay down on the cot to rest, and somehow I went to 
 sleep. I had horrible dreams. I saw her again standing 
 in that blood-red kitchen, and she seemed to be washing 
 her hands, and the surf on the ledge was whining up the 
 tower, louder and louder all the time, and what it whined 
 was, " Night after night — night after night." What 
 woke me was cold water in my face. 
 
 90. The store-room was in gloom. That scared me at 
 first ; I thought night had come, and remembered the light. 
 But then I saw the gloom was of a storm. The floor was 
 shining wet, and the water in my face was spray, flung 
 up through the open door. When I ran to close it it almost 
 made me dizzy to see the gray-and-white breakers march- 
 ing past. The land was gone ; the sky shut down heavy 
 overhead ; there was a piece of wreckage on the back of 
 a swell, and the Jacob's-ladder was carried clean away. 
 How that sea had picked up so quick I can't think. I 
 looked at my watch and it wasn't four in the afternoon 
 yet. 
 
 91. When I closed the door, sir, it was almost dark in 
 the store-room. I'd never been in the Light before in a 
 gale of wind. I wondered why I was shivering so, till I 
 found it was the floor below me shivering, and the walls 
 and stair. Horrible crunchings and grindings ran away 
 
 89-93. Rapid return of his disordered state. What with lone- 
 someness, repressed physical desire, mental struggle, morbid intro- 
 spection, and immediate lack of food, he is no longer in control of 
 himself. From the closing part of 93 onward, he is suffering 
 hallucination, against which his will offers but spasmodic ^nd 
 feeble resistance.
 
 454 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 up tlie tower, and now and then there was a great thud 
 somewhere, like a cannon-shot in a cave. I tell joii, sir, 
 I was alone, and I was in a mortal fright for a minute 
 or so. And yet I had to get myself together. There was 
 the light up there not tended to, and an early dark coming 
 on and a heavy night and all, and I had to go. And I 
 had to pass that door. 
 
 92. " You'll say it's foolish, sir, and maybe it icas 
 foolish. Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten. But I 
 began thinking of that door up there the minute I set foot 
 on the stair, and all the way up through that howling 
 dark well I dreaded to pass it. I told myself I wouldn't 
 stop. I didn't stop. I felt the landing underfoot and I 
 went on, four steps, five — and then I couldn't. I turned 
 and went back. I put out my hand and it went on into 
 nothing. That door, sir, was open again. 
 
 93. I left it be ; I went on up to the light-room and set 
 to work. It was Bedlam there, sir, screeching Bedlam, 
 but I took no notice. I kept my eyes down. I trimmed 
 those seven wicks, sir, as neat as ever they were trimmed; 
 I polished the brass till it shone, and I dusted the lens. 
 It wasn't till that was done that I let myself look back to 
 see who it was standing there, half out of sight in the 
 well. It was her, sir. 
 
 94. " Where'd you come from ? " I asked. I remember 
 my voice was sharp. 
 
 94: ff. Lacking the inhibitions of reason, Johnson's mind now 
 brings to the surface and gives concrete form to feelings and 
 thoughts that so long had seethed in it. Accordingly, we find him 
 imagining an Anna beautiful and enticing, and putting on her lips 
 the expression of his own poetic and dreamy fancies (cf. n. on 
 30). We have now reached the climactic height of the story, 
 which continues to 154. The intensity is produced by the realiza-
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothees 455 
 
 95. " Up Jacob's-ladder," said she, and hers was like 
 the syrup of flowers. 
 
 96. I shook my head. I was savage, sir. " The lad- 
 der's carried away." 
 
 97. " I cast it off," said she, with a smile. 
 
 98. " Then," said I, " you must ha^ e come while I was 
 asleep." Another thought came on me, heavy as a ton of 
 lead. " And where's he ? " said I. " Where's the boat ? " 
 
 99. " He's drowned," said she, as easy as that. " And 
 I let the boat go adrift. You wouldn't hear me when I 
 called." 
 
 100. " But look here," said I. " If you came through 
 the store-room, why didn't you wake me up? Tell me 
 that ? " It sounds foolish enough, me standing like a 
 lawyer in court, trying to prove she couldnt be there. 
 
 101. She didn't answer for a moment. I guess she 
 sighed, though I couldn't hear for the gale, and her eyes 
 grew soft, sir, so soft. 
 
 102. " I couldn't," said she. " You looked so peace- 
 ful — dear one." 
 
 103. My cheeks and neck went hot, sir, as if a warm 
 iron was laid on them. I didn't know what to say. I 
 
 began to stammer, " What do you mean " but she 
 
 was going back down the stair, out of sight. My God ! 
 sir, and I used not to think she was good-looking! 
 
 104. I started to follow her. I wanted to know what 
 
 tion of Johnson's visions and his passionate delusions. Even this 
 state in him is not, however, constant. Thus in 107 he sud- 
 denly fancies Anna a devil (recurrence of his dogmatic religious 
 training), and at the same time feels the compulsion of will 
 to light up as duty requires. Following this comes a flash of 
 natural human perversity (114-117) ; but his wanderings all come 
 back quickly to her as the object of his longing.
 
 456 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 she meant. Then I said to myself, " If I don't go — if I 
 wait here — she'll come back." And I went to the weather 
 side and stood looking out of the window. Not that there 
 was much to see. It was growing dark, and the Seven 
 Brothers looked like the mane of a running horse, a great, 
 vast, white horse running into the wind. The air was 
 a-welter with it. I caught one peep of a fisherman, lying 
 down flat trying to weather the ledge, and I said, " God 
 help them all tonight," and then I went hot at sound of 
 that " God." 
 
 105. I was right about her, though. She was back 
 again. I wanted her to speak first, before I turned, but 
 she wouldn't. I didn't hear her go out; I didn't know 
 what she was up to till I saw her coming outside on the 
 walk-around, drenched wet already. I pounded on the 
 glass for her to come in and not be a fool; if she heard 
 she gave no sign of it. 
 
 lOG. There she stood, and there I stood watching her. 
 Lord, sir — was it just that I'd never had eyes to see? Or 
 are there women who bloom ? Her clothes were shining 
 on her, like a carving, and her hair was let down like a 
 golden curtain tossing and streaming in the gale, and there 
 she stood with her lips half open, drinking, and her eyes 
 half-closed, gazing straight away over the Seven Brothers, 
 and her shoulders swaying, as if in tune with the wind 
 and water and all the ruin. And when I looked at her 
 hands over the rail, sir, they were moving in each other 
 as if they bathed, and then I remembered, sir. 
 
 107. A cold horror took me. I knew now why she had 
 come back again. She wasn't a woman — she was a devil. 
 I turned my back on her. I said to myself: "It's time 
 to light up. You've got to light up " — like that, over and
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 457 
 
 over, out loud. My hand was shivering so I could hardly 
 find a match ; and when I scratched it, it only flared a 
 second and then went out in the back draught from the 
 open door. She was standing in the doorway, looking at 
 me. It's queer, sir, but I felt like a child caught in 
 mischief. 
 
 108. " I — I — was going to light up," I managed to 
 say, finally. 
 
 109. " Why ?" said she. No, I can't say it as she did. 
 
 110. " Why?" said I. "Mij God!" 
 
 111. She came nearer, laughing, as if with pity, low, 
 you know. " Your God ? And who is your God ? What 
 is God ? What is anything on a night like this ? " 
 
 112. I drew back from her. All I could say anything 
 about was the light. 
 
 113. " Why not the dark ? " said she. " Dark is softer 
 than light — tenderer — dearer than light. From the dark 
 up here, away up here in the wind and storm, we can 
 watch the ships go by, you and I. And you love me so. 
 You've loved me so long, Ray." 
 
 114. " I never have ! " I struck out at her. " I don't! 
 I don't ! " 
 
 115. Her voice was lower than ever, but there was the 
 same laughing pity in it. " Oh yes, you have." And she 
 was near me again, 
 
 116. "I have ? " I yelled. " I'll show you ! I'll show 
 you if I have ! " 
 
 117. I got another match, sir, and scratched it on the 
 brass. I gave it to the first wick, the little wick that's 
 inside all the others. It bloomed like a yellow flower. 
 '' I have ? " 1 yelled, and gave it to the next. 
 
 118. Then there was a shadow, and I saw she was
 
 458 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 leaning bcsiJc me, her two elbows on the brass, her two 
 arms stretched out above the wicks, her bare forearms and 
 wrists and hands. I gave a gasp : 
 
 119. "Take care! You'll burn them! For God's 
 sake " 
 
 120. She didn't move or speak. The match burned my 
 fingers and went out, and all I could do was stare at those 
 arms of hers, helpless. I'd never noticed her arms before. 
 They were rounded and graceful and covered with a soft 
 down, like a breath of gold. Then I heard her speaking, 
 close to my ear. " Pretty arms," she said. " Pretty 
 arms ! " 
 
 121. I turned. Her eyes were fixed on mine. They 
 seemed heavy, as if with sleep, and yet between their lids 
 they were tw^o wells, deep and deep, and as if they held all 
 the things I'd ever thought or dreamed in them. I looked 
 away from them, at her lips. Her lips were red as pop- 
 pies, heavy w'ith redness. They moved, and I heard them 
 speaking : 
 
 122. " Poor boy, you love me so, and you want to kiss 
 me — don't you ? " 
 
 123. "No," said I. But I couldn't turn around. I 
 looked at her hair. I'd always thought it was stringy hair. 
 Some hair curls naturally with damp, they say, and per- 
 haps that was it, for there were pearls of wet on it, and it 
 was thick and shimmering around her face, making soft 
 shadows by the temples. There was green in it, queer 
 strands of green like braids. 
 
 124. " What is it ? " said I. 
 
 125. " I^othing but weed," said she, with that slow, 
 sleepy smile. 
 
 126. Somehow or other I felt calmer than I had any
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 459 
 
 time. " Look here," said I. " I'm going to light this 
 lamp." I took out a match, scratched it, and touched the 
 third wick. The flame ran around, bigger than the other 
 two together. But still her arms hung there. I bit my 
 lip. '' By God, I will! " said I to myself, and I lit the 
 fourth. 
 
 127. It was fierce, sir, fierce! And yet those arms 
 never trembled. I had to look around at her. Her eyes 
 were still looking into mine, so deep and deep, and her 
 red lips were still smiling with that queer sleepy droop; 
 the only thing was that tears were raining down her 
 cheeks — big, glowing, round, jewel tears. It wasn't hu- 
 man, sir. It was like a dream. 
 
 128. " Pretty arms," she sighed, and then, as if those 
 words had broken something in her heart, there came a 
 great sob bursting from her lips. To hear it drove me 
 mad. I reached to drag her away, but she was too quick, 
 sir ; she cringed from me and slipped out f rorii between my 
 hands. It was like she faded away, sir, and went down 
 in a bundle, nursing her poor arms and mourning over 
 them with those terrible, broken sobs. 
 
 129. The sound of them took the manhood out of me — 
 you'd have been the same, sir. I knelt down beside her 
 on the floor and covered my face. 
 
 130. " Please," I moaned. " Please ! Please ! " That's 
 all I could say. I wanted her to forgive me. I reached 
 out a hand, blind, for forgiveness, and I couldn't find her 
 anywhere. I had hurt her so, and she was afraid of me, 
 of me^ sir who loved her so deep it drove me crazy. 
 
 131. I could see her down the stair, though it was dim 
 and my eyes were filled with tears. I stumbled after her, 
 crying, " Please! Please! " The little wicks I'd lit were
 
 400 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 blowing in the wind from the door and smoking the glass 
 beside them black. One went out. I pleaded with them, 
 the same as I would plead with a human being. I said 
 I'd be back in a second. I promised. And I went on 
 down the stair, crying like a baby because I'd hurt her, 
 and she was afraid of me — of me, sir. 
 
 132. She had gone into her room. The door was closed 
 against me and I could hear her sobbing beyond it, broken- 
 hearted. My heart was broken, too. I beat on the door 
 with my palms. I begged her to forgive me. I told her 
 I loved her. And all the answer was that sobbing in the 
 dark. 
 
 133. And then I lifted the latch and went in, groping, 
 pleading. " Dearest — please ! Because I love you ! " 
 
 134. I heard her speak down near the floor. There 
 wasn't any anger in her voice ; nothing but sadness and 
 despair. 
 
 135. " jSTo," said she. " You don't love me, Ray. 
 You never have." 
 
 136. "I do! I have!" 
 
 137. " iSTo, no," said she, as if she was tired out. 
 
 138. " Where are you ? " I was groping for her. I 
 thought, and lit a match. She had got to the door and 
 was standing there as if ready to fly. I went toward her, 
 and she made me stop. She took my breath away. " I 
 hurt your arms," said I, in a dream. 
 
 139. " No," said she, hardly moving her lips. She 
 held them out to the match's light for me to look, and 
 there was never a scar on them — not even that soft, golden 
 down was singed, sir. " You can't hurt my body," said 
 she, sad as anything. "Only my heart, Ray; my poor 
 heart."
 
 The Woman at Seven Beotheks 461 
 
 140. I tell you again, she took my breath away. I lit 
 another match. " How can you be so beautiful ? " I won- 
 dered. 
 
 141. She answered in riddles — but oh, the sadness of 
 her, sir. 
 
 142. " Because," said she, " I've always so wanted to 
 be." 
 
 143. " How come your eyes so heavy ? " said I. 
 
 144. " Because I've seen so many things I never 
 dreamed of," said she. 
 
 145. " How come your hair so thick ? " 
 
 146. " It's the seaweed makes it thick," said she, smil- 
 ing queer, queer. 
 
 147. " How come seaweed there ? " 
 
 148. " Out of the bottom of the sea." 
 
 149. She talked in riddles, but it was like poetry to 
 hear her, or a song. 
 
 150. " How come your lips so red ? " said I. 
 
 151. " Because they've wanted so long to be 
 kissed." 
 
 152. Fire was on me, sir, I reached out to catch her, 
 but she was gone, out of the door and down the stair. I 
 followed, stumbling. I must have tripped on the turn, for 
 I remember going through the air and fetching up with 
 a crash, and I didn't know anything for a spell — how long 
 I can't say. When I came to, she was there, somewhere, 
 bending over me, crooning, " My love — my love-^" under 
 her breath like a song. 
 
 153. But then when I got up, she was not where my 
 arms went ; she was down the stair again, just ahead of 
 me. I followed her. I was tottering and dizzy and full 
 of pain. I tried to catch up with her in the dark of the
 
 462 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 store-room, but she was too quick for me, sir, always a 
 little too quick for mc. Oh, she was cruel to me, sir. I 
 kept bumping' against things, hurting myself still worse, 
 and it was cold and wet and a horrible noise all the while, 
 sir; and then, sir, I found the door was open, and a sea 
 had parted the hinges. 
 
 15-i. I don't know how it all went, sir. I'd tell you 
 if I could, but it's all so blurred — sometimes it seems more 
 like a dream. I couldn't find her any more; I couldn't 
 hear her ; I went all over, everywhere. Once, I remember, 
 I found myself hanging out of that door between the 
 davits, looking down into those big black seas and crying 
 like a baby. It's all riddles and blur. I can't seem to tell 
 you much, sir. It was all — all — I don't know. 
 
 155. I was talking to somebody else — not her. It was 
 the Inspector. I hardly knew it was the Inspector. His 
 face was as gray as a blanket, and his eyes were blood- 
 shot, and his lips were twisted. His left wrist hung down, 
 awkward. It was broken coming aboard the Light in that 
 sea. Yes, we were in the living-room. Yes, sir, it was 
 daylight — gray daylight. I tell you, sir, the man looked 
 crazy to me. He was waving his good arm toward the 
 w^eather windows, and what he was saying, over and over, 
 w^as this: 
 
 156. "Look what you done, damn you! Look what 
 you done ! " 
 
 157. And what I was saying was this: 
 
 158. "I've lost her!" 
 
 154. Complete mental collapse and obscurity. 
 
 155 ff. Falling action. Observe the combination of clear under- 
 standing and delusion in his mind, as illustrated by 163, 168, 170, 
 opposed to the other paragraphs.
 
 The Woman at Seven Brothers 463 
 
 159. I didn't pay any attention to him, nor him to 
 me. By and by he did, though. He stopped his talking 
 all of a sudden, and his eyes looked like the devil's eyes. 
 He put them up close to mine. He grabbed my arm with 
 his good hand, and I cried, I was so weak. 
 
 160. "Johnson," said he, "is that it? By the living 
 God — if you got a woman out here, Johnson ! " 
 
 161. " No," said I. " I've lost her." 
 
 162. " What do you mean — lost her? " 
 
 163. " It was dark," said I — and it's funny how my 
 head was clearing up — " and the door was open — the 
 store-room door — and I was after her — and I guess she 
 stumbled, maybe — and I lost her." 
 
 164. "Johnson," said he, "what do you mean? You 
 sound crazy — downright crazy. Who ? " 
 
 165. " Her," said I. " Fedderson's wife." 
 
 166. "Whof" 
 
 167. " Her," said I. And with that he gave my arm 
 another jerk. 
 
 167A. " Listen," said he, like a tiger. " Don't try 
 that on me. It won't do any good — that kind of lies — 
 not where you're going to. Fedderson and his wife, too 
 — the both of 'em's drowned deader 'n a door-nail." 
 
 168. " I know," said I, nodding my head. I was so 
 calm it made him wild. 
 
 169. "You're crazy! Crazy as a loon, Johnson!" 
 And he was chewing his lip red. " I know, because it 
 was me that found the old man laying on Back Water 
 Flats yesterday morning — me! And she'd been w^ith him 
 in the boat, too, because he had a piece of her jacket tore 
 off, tangled in his arm." 
 
 170. " I know," said I, nodding again, like that.
 
 •iOt Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 171. " You know what, you crazy, murdering fool? 
 Those were his words to me, sir. 
 
 172. '' I know," said I, " what I know." 
 
 173. " And I know," said he, " what I know." 
 
 174. And there you arc, sir. He's Inspector. I'm- 
 nobody." 
 
 171. Taken with 104 and 131, the inspector's remark has raised 
 the question with some readers of the story, whether we are to 
 understand that the abandonment of the lantern caused the 
 wrecking of the Boston boat that night. The student can work 
 out his own conchision. The editor's opinion is that the author 
 did not intend to imply this, as a few words added to the 
 inspector's remarks would have been quite sufficient to indicate 
 the wreck had it occurred, and as the loss of the boat, though 
 perhaps it would slightly heighten the intensity, is not material 
 to the impression or outcome of the story one way or the other. 
 — Concerning 174, see introd. n. 1 and 7 (end).
 
 THE CAT AIJ^D THE FIDDLE 
 
 The Stoky as a Whole 
 
 1. In theme and motif, this story approaches the pur- 
 pose story (S. S. M., 27-31). It is clearly allegorical in 
 effect (S. S. M., 208:2). On the other hand, it is suf- 
 ficiently concrete and individualized in incident and per- 
 sons to have the quality of romantic dramatic narrative, 
 and on account of its specific plot and incident it fulfills 
 the requirements of the pure-theme story better than it 
 does those of the purpose story (S. S. M., 31 : 14, 32 : 15). 
 The principle of S. S. M., 34: 19 and 35: 21-22 applies. 
 Atmosphere qualities are prominent; so are character ele- 
 ments, tending (as just intimated) to the typical and class 
 category rather than to the strictly individual. 
 
 2. Considered (1) ethically, the story is expressive of 
 the ideals of plain and stem living and high thinking. 
 Considered (2) for imaginative quality, it is a story 
 of creative fancy; (3) for mood of author, a story of 
 idealizing fancy; (4) for author's viewpoint (besides its 
 ethical import), it indicates love of the spirit and form 
 of beauty — i.e., belief in art; for author's personality, it 
 is a story showing the qualities indicated in (1), (2), 
 (4), with humor, sympathy and gentleness of understand- 
 ing. Its stylistic qualities are simplicity, directness, ease, 
 clarity, and a pervading fancifulness and picturing power 
 resulting from the author's personality coupled with he;; 
 
 465
 
 4GG Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 fine artistic sense of the tone and inherent quality of the 
 theme. The literary motif is poetic and romantic, and 
 the treatment and expression accord with the literary 
 motif. (What is the didactic motif? Which of the two 
 dominates ?) 
 
 3. The contrast element is strong in the motif and 
 treatment. For details, see the running comment. It is 
 not presented obviously, however, nor made inartistic by 
 over-emphasis. 
 
 4. To a considerable extent, this story represents the 
 type of treatment in which an individualized central per- 
 son is set off by an opposed and unindividualized group. 
 On unity secured through the central person, see S. S. M., 
 1S0-1S3. In the present story, the group that constitutes 
 the main foil has a leading representative (Raymond), 
 who is individualized pretty definitely, and made by con- 
 crete presentation into a personal as well as a type foil 
 for Lenoir, the central person. Read S. S. M., 208 : 2-4 
 (with footnote). 
 
 5. The framework of the plot is both simple and slight. 
 But it is quite sufficient to its work of sustaining the story 
 by carrying the effect-producing matter. S. S. M., 24-26. 
 Reduced to its framework of outcome-bringing incident, 
 the plot is merely this : 
 
 A. The waiter-poet's poem is carried away by the wind. 
 
 B. It is found in the scrap book of the dispossessed 
 
 sewing-woman. 
 C It wins him, anonymously, the kingship of the 
 poets ; and the incident of the auction (B) dis- 
 covers to him his dream-ideal of women.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 467 
 
 Practically all the effect of the story is created by means 
 of elements other than plot ; cf. especially the closing two 
 paragraphs. 
 
 6. This story is ultimately concerned with spiritual 
 truths, not practical life or its material aspects. Study it 
 for its underlying views of poetry (art) and of material 
 existence (also cf. it with " The Great God "). ISTote its 
 sense of the final value of truth and beauty in comparison 
 with things more material in character; and note the 
 forms of expression which high and noble spirituality are 
 shown as taking. To this end, compare the character and 
 conduct of Lenoir and Lasalle; Lenoir and Eaymond; 
 Lasalle and Raymond. Consider Mile. Renee as sym- 
 bolic of the spirit in human form. (One may carry this 
 study further by considering what is symbolized by 
 Lenoir's distant worship of Mile. Dupre, and by Ray- 
 mond's more earthly pursuit and his attainment of her 
 human companionship. — It is not difficult to see in this 
 story a relationship like that between Dante and Beatrice ; 
 and there is in Mile. Dupre a suggestion of Una in " The 
 Faerie Queene.") — Such a story exemplifies the power of 
 the conte to present life in its final — that is, spiritual — 
 meanings; to give concrete outwardness to its deeply sig- 
 nificant inner truths. On this and related matters, it will 
 pay to read S. S. M., 1:1-6; 5:11; 12:7; 13 : 2 ; 14-15 ; 
 34 : 36 ; 36 : 2 ; 43 : 1-2 ; 50 : 15-16 ; 53 : 19 ; 54-58 ; 62-65 ; 
 94 : 6 ; 107-108 ; 109-110 ; 158 : 11-12 ; 180 : 4 ; 181, note ; 
 192:6; 256, last paragraph. — Further note that the 
 " struggle " in this story is really a struggle of ideals. 
 Will the true poet win recognition ? If so, will he win it 
 in an outcome bringing external triumph, or will his tri- 
 umph be spiritual only ? If the latter, must he miss cer-
 
 468 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 taiu of the elements of human, or material success ? This 
 is the problem really involved in the determining condi- 
 tions of the story. It is all involved in the question, what 
 will happen to Lenoir with reference to (a) his poem and 
 (b) Mile. Dupre ? 
 
 7. Therefore, the story is one of subjective effect rather 
 than of objective plot; as already pointed out (No. 5 
 above), the framework of objective incident is slight. More- 
 over, it is not, in its objective action, thoroughly close- 
 wrought, for the recovery of Lenoir's poem is pure chance 
 and not necessity. But it appears plausible, for we in- 
 tuitively perceive that we are not dealing with the truths 
 of existence in the physical world, but in the world of 
 ideals, and wo therefore consent to the manipulation of the 
 lower order of plot fact in favor of the higher. (Cf. 
 S. S. M., 86-92.) Moreover, the element of chance is itself 
 carefully motivated and concealed, with a view to the im- 
 pression of plausibility. Observe this management in the 
 story. Paragraphs 37-38 show that the dispossess auction 
 is a usual occurrence. The keeping of the scrap-book is 
 natural with a woman like Mile. Dupre, and the fact 
 that all sorts of chance matter get into scrap-books adds 
 to our feeling that it is natural for Felix's poem to be 
 there in the lot, though the manner of its getting there 
 really remains in truth, as much pure chance as ever. 
 Again, the loss of the poem, the finding of it in the book, 
 and the explanation bf its blowing to Mile. Dupre's 
 window, are told of in far-separated paragraphs (16, 42, 
 70), with a great deal of true-seeming detail between. 
 Thus the incident loses the improbability it would seem to 
 have were these facts bunched in a bald account, saying 
 that, when the poem blew away it was carried to the win-
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 469 
 
 dow. The management of the facts thus to conceal the 
 strong element of chance they involve, is worth close study. 
 See S. S. M., pp. 10-18 ; 24-26 ; 96-98 ; 100-103 ; 168 : 25 ; 
 180:4; 188: 15; 191: 5. These are details of technical 
 skill, hovi'ever, and must not obscure the fact that — essen- 
 tially — the story is one of subjective effect, growing out 
 of a struggle of the human toward an ideal goal. Fur- 
 ther concerning this, see the comment on par. 18 (last 
 part). 
 
 7. This story affords an excellent study in the unities 
 (S. S. M,, 178-189). Lenoir is the central person; Eay- 
 mond, his foil, is the more active, but his activity, like the 
 rest of the elements of this story, is seen mainly as it 
 affects Lenoir. The author's conception of the persons is 
 complete, natural, and consistent (S. S. M., 182 : 6). Unity 
 of action is fairly strong, because the divisions of the plot 
 outline (see note 5 above) are evenly distributed through 
 the story and the concentrative matter is worked in very 
 skillfully and thoroughly integrated with the framework 
 (S. S. M., 166: 23). There is likewise unity of setting, 
 of tone, and of thought. 
 
 8. Characterization is skillfully managed; study espe- 
 cially, and separately, Lenoir, Raymond, Mile. Dupre, and 
 Lasalle. See S. S. M., 182:6-9; 51:16-19; 162:16-19; 
 206-229; 257(all)-258. 
 
 9. Though dialogue is not prominent, it is important 
 when used, and is well managed. See S. S. M., 229-249, 
 especially 229-231; 231-6 to 238:14; 241:1-2; 243:4; 
 246:9. 
 
 10. The author's personality can be felt throughout the 
 story, yet it nowhere is apparent in any obvious or self- 
 exploiting form, but only as a shaping and coloring influ-
 
 470 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 cnc'c — in the fonndation conceptions of life and of char- 
 acter-values, the manner of expression, the situations 
 imagined, touches of humor, sympathy, tolerance, and the 
 like. Cf. S. S. M., 189-190; 194:9-198; 245:8; 250, 
 "How can"; 253, "How can"; 5:12-16; 62:11-16; 
 68-70.
 
 THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE 
 
 By Molly Elliott Seawell 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from 
 
 "Ainslee's" for January, 1914. 
 
 (Copyright, 1914) 
 
 1. The Black Cat, a cheerful, dirty,^ agreeable place 
 on the left bank of the Seine, was the favorite resort of 
 the poets and literati in the Latin Quarter. So many of 
 
 1-10. A keynote opening (S.S.M., 124:4; 125-126; 127-129; 
 137-135). The story is strongly atmospheric in its elements of 
 (a) environment, (b) class traits (S. S. M., 211, footnote), and 
 (e) character (type rather than individual, because it is to a con- 
 siderable extent allegorical). The descriptive opening strikes the 
 tone of the treatment and gets before us at once representative 
 portions of the atmosphere material. The nature of the descrip- 
 tive prologue in this story can be illustrated from the first pic- 
 tures sometimes seen in moving picture films that are of an alle- 
 gorical or symbolical nature, or that tell a story strong in 
 environmental elements or atmospheric quality. In such films, 
 a preparatory set of pictures is frequently run, more or less 
 closely connected with the action of the piece itself, and always 
 putting the spectator into the spirit of it. In this story, the 
 connection is unbroken, as most of the opening material prepares 
 the stage and makes ready for later incident. Note this, observing 
 that in the present story the handling of setting is skillfully made 
 to catch interest (S. S. M., 122-151, especially 126, close of par. 
 6; 127:9; 132:16; 135:21; 136: all, and as far as 138:3; 
 140:9); to provide later setting; and to strike the keynote 
 (S. S. M., 138: italics). As an opening, it is very successful, 
 well worth study for its technique. 
 
 1. ' Words that indicate an estimate of the place and its people 
 by the non-romantic, or common-sense standards of everyday 
 
 471
 
 472 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 these gentry ^ frequented the place that it arrogated to itself 
 a transcendent literary privilege. This was the election, 
 once a year, of a king of all the poets in the Latin Quarter. 
 Of course, this meant the king of all the poets in Paris ; 
 equally, the king of all the poets in France ; and the king 
 of all the poets in France must be the king of all the poets 
 in the civilized world. 
 
 2. The patrons of the Black Cat took their responsi- 
 bility seriously, and spent the last six months of every 
 year in wrangling over the merits of the king to be elected, 
 
 life. They helj) to produce the proper attitude of mind in the 
 reader, who must appreciate the point of view of the people of 
 the story, and the spirit of the life they lead, without losing his 
 sense of ultimate values. Throughout the story we shall need 
 to enter into the spirit of this irresponsible, happy, non-moral 
 life of Bohemia as the egoistic, conventional romantic traditions 
 of the idealized Latin Quarter have always depicted it; but at 
 the same time we are not to forget that there is another set 
 of standards, and that this, not the Latin Quarter set, is the one 
 by which the world at large conducts itself. The leading person 
 in the story is the representative of these standards in their best 
 form — industry, humility, and spiritual devotion and strength. 
 Lenoir therefore represents in the allegory not only poetry, but 
 likewise the matter-of-fact world, in their best aspects; Raymond 
 and the other poets, with the grasshoppers, are a foil to him, 
 representing the Latin Quarter conceptions of life in their best 
 aspects. "Words like " dirty " and " gentry," with other expres- 
 sions or suggestive phrasings, keep us on an even keel in our 
 sympathies. They are the ballast provided by a normal point 
 of view. Let the student find other passages where we are safe- 
 guarded against too much sentimental careening. What is Lasalle 
 typical of in the allegory? 
 
 2. Here and in various other places one finds good-natured but 
 unmistakable irony or satire. Cf. the comment on par. 1. Some 
 of it is in effect scarcely more than humorous description (par. 3, 
 "enjoyed the hospitality"); some is deeply motived comment 
 on the facts of life. Look up other passages of each kind.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 473 
 
 and the next six mouths in quarreling and fighting duels 
 over the demerits of the king elected. 
 
 3. The Black Cat had certain advantages of situation. 
 Directly across the street was the Fiddle, the name given 
 in the Latin Quarter to the police station. On Saturday 
 nights it was a regular part of the entertainment at the 
 Black Cat to watch the crowd of " arrests " taken into the 
 Fiddle, where they enjoyed the hospitality of the munici- 
 pality for the night. At six o'clock on Sunday morning 
 those who could afford a couple of francs, which was the 
 usual fine, or who had friends or relatives capable of pro- 
 ducing this sum, were turned loose. 
 
 4. Saturday night at the Black Cat lasted until six 
 o'clock Sunday morning. Thus the sweet and solemn call 
 of the Angelus bell, in a dismal little old church jammed 
 up against the Fiddle, was the signal for the crowd of 
 revelers ^ to pour into the street and watch the guests of 
 the city make their adieus to its guardians. The guests 
 generally gave profuse thanks for their entertainment, and 
 promised the police, who grinned good-naturedly, to repeat 
 the visit shortly.^ 
 
 5. A large proportion of the persons waiting on the 
 sidewalk were merry young ladies, officially known as 
 
 4. Atmosphere and tone materials presented in the setting and 
 environment. — ' Observe the contrasts — " sweet and solemn call," 
 " dismal little old church " and prison, crowd of revelers. This 
 story is based on fundamental contrast (the true fact and great 
 man and the imitation), revealed simply and concretely m the nar- 
 rative; and numerous contrasts occur in sharply turned presenta- 
 tion of details. — ' Mood and character hint. 
 
 5. Atmosphere material presented in the persons. — Observe 
 here the introduction of persons collectively, and the way in which 
 the author manages to impress us with the sense of considerable
 
 171- Today's Siiokt Stories Anat.yzed 
 
 housekeepers, and niiolliciallj as "grasshoppers," whose 
 protectors had been run in for the night. These girls, with 
 gay, painted faces, and cheap finery, chatted and giggled 
 and nudged one another as they made their way to the 
 window and paid the two francs. Each one boasted that 
 she had pawned her best gown or hat, or whatever it 
 might be, to get her friend out, there being sharp rivalry 
 in matters of devotion on the part of these young ladies, 
 who, like the grasshoppers, sang all the summer, and 
 thought not of the winter. 
 
 6. Then there were angry fathers and weeping moth- 
 ers to take charge of their darling boys, and to reproach 
 them bitterly. The grasshoppers never made any re- 
 proaches when their friends came out into the morning 
 light with their hats smashed, their collars disheveled, and 
 all the marks upon them of a night spent in the Fiddle. 
 However, the weeping mothers frequently haled their dis- 
 heveled boys around the corner to the little church, where, 
 on their knees in the gloom, the boys faithfully promised 
 never, never to misbehave themselves again as long as they 
 lived. This grew to be quite a custom at the Fiddle, and 
 it became a part of the show that the drunks and dis- 
 orderlies should be marched off to the church direct from 
 the Fiddle. 
 
 Y. This struck the fancy of the grasshoppers as so 
 
 numbers. It corresponds technically to the " mob " or crowd 
 introduced for stage effect in drama. Observe, too, the presenta- 
 tion of a class trait in the last sentence, and how the class trait 
 is based on human nature and presents that also to us. 
 
 6. Presentation of atmosphere material by means of incident 
 (seen somewhat in par. 5 also). — Another obvious instance of 
 contrast in the details introduced. 
 
 7-8. The presentation of atmosphere material continues. Here
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 475 
 
 amusing, that they, too, dragged their friends off to the 
 church, accompanied by a cheering, jeering mob from the 
 Black Cat. The poets and literati, some of whom occa- 
 sionally spent a night in the Fiddle, skipped arm in arm 
 with grasshoppers, or tearful mothers and irate fathers, 
 often to their great indignation, and sometimes to their 
 huge delight. Generally, they danced the cancan on their 
 way to the church, and this was danced with the sonorous 
 singing of the " Dies illce " and other of the grand old 
 Latin hymns. 
 
 8. It also became the fashion for each man to vocif- 
 erate his penitence, and after having faithfully promised 
 the police to make a future visit to the Fiddle, to beat his 
 breast and swear that henceforth he would live a life like 
 the founder of the Trappist Order. Once arrived at the 
 church door, they found a stern young ecclesiastic and a 
 couple of brawny policemen ready to make them behave 
 themselves. 
 
 9. Equally, it became the fashion to change suddenly 
 into great propriety and devoutness while in the church. 
 The merry, painted girls and the laughing, disheveled 
 young men might have been taken for Benedictine nuns 
 
 it is made by means of class personages and generalized, or un- 
 particularized (non-specific, non-concrete) incident. — Even in a 
 romantic telling, some of the characteristic behavior of Bohemia 
 is a trifle shocking- to our deeper sense of reverence or taste — 
 as in par. 8. Cf. the comment on par. 1. 
 
 9. Observe the rapid compactness of the picturing, the narrat- 
 ing, and the philosophizing. This able economy of detail, coupled 
 with rapid, sure recounting, is found throughout the story. It 
 is well worth imitating in practice, and employing on occasion. — 
 By this time the general mood, or attitude, or narration has been 
 suggested (S. S. M., 64-66), and the life of the Quarter — which
 
 476 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 and Trappist monks, so devout were they. Above the altar 
 hung a great, dusky picture of the Madonna with the 
 Child Jesus on her breast. Only the faces of the Mother 
 and Child could be clearly seen in the light of the two 
 flickering candles on the altar and the swinging sanctuary 
 lamp, but a Presence shadowed and sanctified the place. 
 So great is the psychic power of devotion that many of 
 these heedless young creatures were actually good and pure 
 for a little while in the still, darkened little church. 
 Once outside, however, they resumed their antics, and gen- 
 erally wound up by a breakfast on credit at the Black 
 Cat. 
 
 10. Although patronized wholly by poets and literati, 
 the Black Cat made money, and the proprietor, Monsieur 
 Lasalle, had a little country house — which bore the mag- 
 nificent name of the Villa Splendide — besides an apart- 
 ment across the bridges, and could afford to job a carriage. 
 This miracle was explained by the fact that Monsieur 
 Lasalle, a big, handsome, futile man, bothered himself 
 very little about the Black Cat, except to pose as the pro- 
 prietor and the patron of poets. The actual management 
 was in the hands of the head waiter, Felix Lenoir, a small, 
 
 is the environment that supplies a leading element of the atmos- 
 phere — has been characterized. Among the qualities it is repre- 
 sented as having are frivolity, variety, gaiety, impulsiveness, 
 thoughtless irreverence, unconventionality, freedom from the re- 
 straints of a serious moral code, and a lively taste for excitement. 
 Study the paragi-aphs for passages expressive of these and allied 
 qualities. 
 
 10-11. Observe the direct delineation of M. Lasalle, and the 
 characterization of him through suggestion. Read S. S. M., 
 102-164, especially par. 18; (222-225); and especially 225:13.— 
 Observe in connection with the above the introduction of Lenoir,
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 4TT 
 
 meek, shabby man, sallow-skinned and lanky-haired, who 
 worked early and late, year in and year out, and who took 
 his few hours of sleep on a hard little bed in a dark little 
 room on the top floor of the building and who served 
 Lasalle as soldiers serve their chiefs, and are decorated for 
 it with the Order of Tried Bravery. 
 
 11. Felix Lenoir knew what it was to go hungry, be- 
 cause he had not time to eat, and to stand smiling when 
 his poor, tired legs were bending under him, and to make 
 up out of his poor wages bad debts which he had allowed 
 the literati to incur at the Black Cat. The great reward 
 he got for this was that at every election one or two votes 
 were cast for him as king of the poets, which invariably 
 caused a storm of laughter. On those occasions, Felix, 
 blushing and resisting, would be dragged forward and 
 made the object of many excellent jokes, and would have 
 his jiicture drawn by some of the artists present ; for the 
 Black Cat cherished the fine arts as well as literature. 
 
 12. There was but one secret in Felix Lenoir's simple, 
 laborious life. This was contained in a little locked desk, 
 which held poems written by him secretly and shame- 
 
 with Lasalle as a foil in contrast ; note the initial description 
 (S. S. M., 163-164), followed by confirmatoi'y characterization dis- 
 tributed througbout tbe rest of tbe story. In following up this 
 study hint, compare tbe treatment of the secondary persons with 
 that of Lenoir (Raymond is, next to Lenoir, tbe most prominent). 
 Note tbe close of par. 11. Activity like this is common through tbe 
 story. It provides atmospbere and characterization, and enlivens 
 the narrative. On activity, see S. S. M., 37 : 4 ; 136 : 1 ; 140 : 7. 
 
 12. Continues characterization of Lenoir, mainly by rapid sum- 
 marizing narrative. Psychological naiTation is present (S. S. M., 
 228). Of his character traits, note the humility and tbe true 
 poetic passion — love of beauty and love of expression. Cf. Ray- 
 mond and tbe other " poets " of tbe Black Cat group. — From
 
 478 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 facedly. In the occasional hours when he found himself 
 alone and at leisure in his little aerie under the roof, he 
 felt a strange passion of anticipated joy, which was al- 
 most happiness in itself. The dull little room became 
 glorified. From one narrow window was visible a patch 
 of sky, across which the swallows darted, their glossy black 
 breasts shining in the sun. Sometimes the wintry clouds 
 scurried across the piece of sky, and again a star scintil- 
 lated and quivered as if for Felix alone. To him, that 
 sky represented the little scrap of heaven that is found in 
 every human life. 
 
 13. Felix Lenoir, though a head waiter, was a man, and 
 longed for the soft smile of a woman's face bent upon him. 
 But he had neither time nor money to woo women, and 
 none of those in the neighborhood of the Black Cat had 
 faces with the angelic expression that Felix imagined in 
 his waking and sleeping dreams, and, as he said to himself : 
 
 14. " What woman with a face such as that of which 
 I dream would look at a head waiter ? Go to, Felix ; you 
 are an ass ! " 
 
 pars. 10-12, write out a character description of Lenoir, using 
 the method of frank analysis (S. S. M., 225: 13.)— Decide why 
 Lenoir is presented by the method of S. S. M., 223 : 10 instead 
 of 223 : 11, and why Raymond is presented by the method of 
 223: 11 (S. S. M., 222-225).— Note the closing words of optimistic 
 philosophy, and the manner in which this directly interpretive 
 assertion is subordinated to the purpose and tone of the stoi-y. 
 Cf. S. S. M., 213, bottom. 
 
 13-14. These paragraphs complete the massed characterization 
 of Lenoir to which pars. 10-14 are devoted ; they add one of the 
 main human elements, showing Lenoir a man in his make-up, as 
 well as a head waiter and a poet. The trait here set forth — 
 high and reverent love for women — is one indispensable part of 
 character basis for the plot and action ; see S. S. M., 13-15.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 479 
 
 15. One golden Sunday in May, in the early afternoon, 
 when there was the usual lull in business at the Black Cat, 
 Felix sat at his window, writing. His manuscript, after 
 being much blotted and interlined,^ was finally finished, 
 and Felix made a clean copy of the poem, twenty lines 
 in all. It was addressed to a dream face that he had 
 imagined in the church, and the idea was that heaven 
 shone from within those eyes.^ 
 
 IG. When he had written it out neatly, he read it over 
 with secret joy. Then, before his very eyes, the sheet 
 
 15. First plot incident begins. Note how it springs from and 
 depends on Lenoir's character, as explained in the comment just 
 preceding this. — ' A detail that is true to the general conception ; 
 as a true poet, Lenoir was a careful workman. A great deal of 
 the effect of a story is created by accurate, significant detail 
 (S. S. M., 66:17).— '"In the church." In the true poet, there 
 is always the passion of reverence — reverence for nature, rev- 
 erence for the divine, reverence for the truth, for nobility of 
 mind or spirit, for spiritual beauty, physical beauty, and beauty 
 in nature, for strength, for haj^piness, for personal gift. Herein 
 is a great difference between the plebeian and the poet. Seeing 
 a beautiful person in church, the plebeian will usually note 
 physical charm; the poet will be moved to spiritual admiration. 
 (Raymond was a poet of no mean ability, but he was not 
 Lenoir's equal, for Lenoir had this spiritual quality. Study the 
 presentation of the two elsewhere for verification of this.) The 
 dream face imagined in the church is therefore a significant detail 
 thoroughly characteristic of the true poet, in whom all experi- 
 ences are contributory to the supreme experience, that of deep 
 spiritual life. Note that, although but a few words are used in 
 this phrase, implied in them is the complete and clear conception 
 of the whole body of associated facts (S. S. M., 182:6-8; 211, 
 top (italics); 217:4 (italics). 
 
 16. The generating circumstance (S. S. M., 85 : 1) . '" But the 
 poetry. ..." Read the paragraph, omitting this sentence. 
 What has it lost? Evidently the omitted sentence is needed, not 
 for narrative unity, but for tonal effect. Without it, the para- 
 graph is bald matter of fact — or would be except for its third
 
 480 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 siuldciilv vnnislu'd. A vagrant wind had rushed into the 
 little street, and, scurrying past Felix's window, liad 
 seized the poem, and dashed off, shrieking with laughter, 
 as poor Felix thought. He saw the paper high up in the 
 blue air and then it was gone/ But the poetry remained 
 in Felix's heart just as a lark may be heard singing far 
 out of sight in the sky. Felix was sitting down at his 
 writing table to make another copy of his poem, when 
 Auguste, his second in command, dashed into the room. 
 
 17. " Come downstairs at once! " shouted Auguste. 
 ''The poets have broken loose ^ and are playing the devil in 
 the garden — drinking toasts, and smashing the glasses 
 afterward. And God knows how hard it is to get payment 
 out of a poet ! " 
 
 sentence, in which figurative language enlivens the matter of 
 fact. Observe, therefore, the manner in which tone material is 
 here managed in sentence 3, by introducing a description dictated 
 by fancy (in other words, poetical) ; in the other sentence, by 
 mention of a fact that helps again to characterize Lenoir as a 
 poet. Each sentence suggests the spirit of poetry. Observe that 
 this spirit may appear either in the substance — the conception — 
 or in the form of the sentence, and probably will be apparent 
 in both, as here. Cf. S. S. M., 58, footnotes; 62-63; 63-66. 
 
 17-32. Intensifying incident (or episode); see S. S. M., 108: 
 31-110 ; 112 : 39. On account of its concentrative function, it con- 
 tains — distributed — much atmosphere and characterizing detail. 
 Pick out the passages of this kind. 
 
 17. Another contrast presented. The humble, true poet up- 
 stairs, devoutly framing words into an expression of the ideal, and 
 the egotistic poets and pseudo-poets downstairs, swilling wine and 
 rough-housing to manifest their sympathy with the ideal. — ' " The 
 poets." Much as one would say " The cows," " the students," 
 naming some group from which a special sort of behavior is to 
 be expected, to be dealt with in a special way. Inobviously, this 
 expression is finely chosen to maintain the tone of the story. It 
 reminds us, by this hidden aptness, of the peculiar social environ- 
 ment that subjectively colors the story throughout.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 481 
 
 18. Felix ran down as fast as his legs would carry him, 
 and found that a sudden irruption had occurred in the 
 little garden of the cafe. There was much shouting and 
 singing and spouting of poetry, the ringleader being Ray- 
 mond d'Artigny, the reigning king of the poets for that 
 year. Felix loved Raymond for his beauty, his gallantry, 
 his rich voice, his brilliant smile, his ineffable impudence, 
 the charm of his verses, printed in a cheap newspaper, and 
 copied in all the best newspapers in Paris. And Raymond 
 loved Felix, and showed it by tweaking his ears, and buf- 
 
 18. Obsei've the quick flash of inclusive, characterizing descrip- 
 tion (S. S. M., 163 : 18; all p. 162 is pertinent, as are pp. 222-227) ; 
 note how a phrase takes us from the cafe into the garden (variety 
 of scene and characteristic detail). — Raymond is the chief sec- 
 ondai*y person, and serves as the main foil (S. S. M., 69) to 
 Lenoir. Contrasts can be made so strong that they lose their 
 effect through being overdone. Overdoing would here be easy; 
 Raymond need only be depicted as a 25oetaster instead of a poet 
 — we are led to feel that on the whole there is a good deal more 
 of self-approval among the poets of the Black Cat than there 
 is of superlative ability. But the author avoided this by making 
 Raymond an able poet too, in obedience to the principle that 
 there must be a close correspondence between things in some 
 essential respect before they can be effectively conti'asted. One 
 element of the contrast is Raymond's importance and Lenoir's 
 insignifieance in their little world. — Since Raymond and Lenoir 
 are friendly — in a way, cronies — and there is no personal rivalry 
 between them, between whom, then, is the conflict for which the 
 theory of plot calls? Here it is not essentially between persons 
 at all. There is a conflict whether Lenoir's poetry will come to 
 light — whether he will win what is most precious to his artist 
 nature: namely, recognition of his art (not personal aggrandize- 
 ment). There is also a conflict whether his longing for the 
 ideal in women will be gratified. The third phase of the con- 
 flict is, whether his human longings will be satisfied. The out- 
 come is, that the ideal is satisfied, but the human disappointed. 
 (Herein one of the major elements of the theme is established, 
 and the consummating touch of pathos given.)
 
 482 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 feting him amiably and ahvays giving him a vote for 
 king of the poets. 
 
 19. Raymond, surrounded by a noisy, laughing, chaf- 
 fing crew, pointed with pride to a mass of broken glass in 
 the middle of the table. 
 
 20. '' Look you, Felix," he cried, " this glass was 
 broken in honor of the unknown — a girl with an angel 
 face — whom we passed just now as she came tripping down 
 the church steps. We drank her health, and then deter- 
 mined that the glasses should never be used for any other 
 purpose. So there they are. You may charge them to my 
 account." 
 
 21. " But," said poor Felix, trying to smile, " it will 
 make a considerable item, Monsieur Raymond, and Mon- 
 sieur Lasalle will hold me accountable for it." 
 
 22. " That's all right," responded Raymond airily, 
 and began to sing a song about what joy one might find 
 in love and wine. 
 
 23. Felix was stammering out a protest against break- 
 ing the glasses, but was cut short by Raymond, who pulled 
 poor Felix's straight, thin, black hair. 
 
 24:. " See here, my good fellow," he said, " we can't 
 be interrupted now in the most serious business of the 
 whole year, not only to ourselves, but to the Black Cat, 
 to the Latin Quarter, to Paris, to France What do 
 
 24. Here the dialogue strongly suggests the basic contrast of 
 the motif — the fundamental difference in their attitude toward life 
 of Lenoir and the Black Cat poets. Raymond's speech expresses 
 an attitude the result of a forced, artificial, and egotistic theoiy 
 of " art " ; Lenoir is throughout simple, unaffected, " human," 
 and natural. His vision is clear, direct, and exalted; that of 
 the Black Cat poets was blurred by affectation, distorted by 
 egotism, and vitiated by artificial theories of life and art. They
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 4B3 
 
 I say ? To the whole world. The election of the king of 
 the poets comes off the thirty-first of next December, and 
 it will take us from now until then to weigh the merits of 
 all the poets, yourself included. When that is done, we 
 will consider the payment of these glasses." 
 
 25. " It is now May," said Felix, with a wry smile, 
 " and do you mean you will not begin to consider the pay- 
 ment of the bill until the thirty-first of December? Is 
 that it ? " 
 
 26. " Precisely," replied Raymond, flourishing his 
 arms. " I always said, Felix, that you were a person of 
 discernment above your calling. And, besides, it is most 
 ungrateful of you ever to ask any of us to pay a bill here, 
 because you know that at every election some of us have 
 cast a complimentary vote for you as king of the poets. 
 You are the only head waiter in Paris who has ever en- 
 joyed such an honor." 
 
 27. " I did not think it was meant as an honor," said 
 Felix, blushing all over his sallow face. " I thought that 
 you were simply making game of me." 
 
 28. "What if we were?" cried Eaymond, pounding 
 
 posed and professed; he was. Study the dialogue in the para- 
 gi-aphs that follow this, and elsewhere, for further examples. — 
 Observe the delicate burlesquing present in the speech as the 
 author writes it. This exaggeration — felt rather than perceived 
 — is the means by which she satirizes the pose of the Bohemian 
 poets. S. S. M., 212 : 5-6. — For the impudent quality in Ray- 
 mond, study pars. 24-26 and others. 
 
 27. Lenoir not only is sincere, natural, and humble; he has the 
 simpleness of a child. Compare Raymond's vanity and bombast 
 in par. 28, and the cold cruelty of his egotism; could Lenoir have 
 made such an answer? See the closing part of S. S. M., 182: 6. 
 
 28. Account for the fact that, although Raymond is not the cen- 
 tral person, his speech and behavior are so fully presented. To
 
 484 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the table and laughing, his white teeth showing under his 
 short black mustache, his dark eyes glowing. " It is an 
 honor to be made game of by an immortal ! The people 
 whom Dante Alighieri put in purgatory and hell were 
 in)mortalizcd ! There was but one Dante Alighieri 
 in Florence, but at the Black Cat, yes, in this 
 very garden at this moment, there are a dozen 
 Dantes ! " 
 
 20. This sentiment was received with roars of ap- 
 plause, and one of the crowd, proposing the health of 
 Dante, declared that if he were living, he would be worthy 
 to be classed with the best poets of the Black Cat — nay, 
 even Raymond d'Artigny himself. When this toast was 
 drunk, all the glasses were smashed again, in honor of 
 the poet and ward politician. 
 
 what extent are the principles of S. S. M., 183 : 9 observed or dis- 
 regarded? Can the principle of S. S. M., 67: 18 apply to character 
 as well as situation, and (along- with C6:17) afford an explana- 
 tion of the attention paid Raymond in comparison with that — 
 apparently — paid Lenoir? With which of the men was initial 
 characterization full and conclusive (S. S.M., 163:18; 164: 
 19-20) ? Was the full initial summary of the character of Lenoir 
 necessary as a basis for the running suggestion of contrast 
 between him and the other poets? Do the long speeches of Ray- 
 mond represent the " mouthy " characteristic of his type of poet 
 and man — i.e., are they made a means of characterizing the 
 "professional artists" in contrast with Lenoir? See S. S. M., 
 234 : 10-15. Is Lenoir a man of few words, or is he portrayed so 
 in the dialogue merely because he has been so fully presented 
 already by analysis, that the contrast between him and the wordy 
 Raymond will reveal itself — or are both these things the reason? 
 See also the comment on par. 30. 
 
 29. Like par. 28 (and the entire episode), this is a eoncentra- 
 tive passage, creating atmosphere (subjective color in behavior), 
 and characterizing.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 485 
 
 30. The under waiters, none of whom had any respon- 
 sibility for the broken glass, laughed openly at the excel- 
 lent jokes of the poets. The waiters did not know 
 that Dante was dead, but Felix knew it, as he 
 knew many things that he was careful to conceal about 
 poets. 
 
 31. " Don't be uneasy, my good Felix! " shouted Eay- 
 mond. " You take care of that pile of broken glass, and 
 in less than five years you will be able to sell the pieces 
 of it for a hundred francs each as a relic of the poets at 
 the Black Cat." 
 
 30. Develops the contrast motif, this time by a hint of the igno- 
 rance of the waiters as compared with Lenoir. Observe how 
 Lenoir is kept before our attention by making him the person 
 over against whom all the other persons are set. By indirect 
 characterization the author thus makes us feel Lenoir's supe- 
 riority. The other persons show traits we disapprove; they are 
 opposed to Lenoir; therefore Lenoir must be correspondingly 
 excellent. This method of indirect characterizing is worth study. 
 — The character-contrast motif is very strong in this story. 
 Lenoir stands alone — isolate in an active world. The " grass- 
 hoppers/' Lasalle, Raymond, the waiters, the prisoners — he is 
 not as any of these are, and we quickly feel it. Contrast is also 
 strong in the behavior and the characteristic interests and occu- 
 pations of the persons — Lasalle the bourgeois, porcine, self- 
 satisfied with his ability and far less able than he thinks, oscil- 
 lating between his " Villa Splendide " and the cafe, made profit- 
 able for him by Lenoir ; the Bohemian " journalists," literary 
 soldiers of fortune, and their artist associates; the police and 
 the clergy; the unconventionally domestic and frivolously faithful 
 " housekeepers," making their best of a substitute for home as 
 they did of their substitute for happiness; the occasional true 
 gold of humanity — Mile. Dupre and Lenoir himself; — these, each 
 with some trick or trait of conduct characteristic of his type, 
 afford an abundant variety of contrast. On character traits sug- 
 gested as abundant, but not portrayed, see S. S. M., 182 : 6 and 
 183 : 8.
 
 486 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 32. With this Felix had to be satisfied for the present, 
 and to making- up his mind to watch the cheap newspapers; 
 for these young men occasionally had verses and articles 
 printed, and as soon as Felix saw a poem or an article by 
 a patron of the Black Cat, he knew that it was an auspi- 
 cious time to ask for a small unpaid account. 
 
 33. Felix lived in a state of exaltation all that day, 
 and for some days afterward, thinking about his poem. 
 He even had dreams of sending it to a newspaper or a 
 magazine, but concluded that the chance of publication 
 was too slim to justify the postage. Still, the poem dwelt 
 in the heart of Felix all the bright summer and into the 
 gloomy autumn. 
 
 34. Meanwhile, the election of a poet for the coming 
 year was growing to be the overmastering question at the 
 Black Cat, and so many duels were fought about it that 
 Felix really began to be afraid somebody would get hurt. 
 Usually, by the first of December, the different candidates 
 and their parties were well aligned, but it seemed this 
 year as if there would be twenty kings of poetry, or none 
 at all. 
 
 35. Felix was country bred, but, of course, owing to the 
 cost of Lasalle's Villa Splendide, Felix had neither the 
 
 32. Double-barreled character-hint: tells of both Lenoir (on 
 the job) and the poets. 
 
 33-34. Transition. Note how the passage of time is made im- 
 pressive. — Which is the stronger : to say that Lenoir was poor, or 
 to say that he could not afford postage to submit his poem? On 
 the concrete, see S. S. M., 3 : 6-10. 
 
 35. Added touch of characterization, with a return at the end 
 to an item (pars. 13-14) of the inclusive characterization massed 
 in pars. 10-14 ; see S. S. M., 164 : 20. Observe that, following 
 massed or inclusive character description, the introduction of
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 487 
 
 time nor the money to go to the country. The nearest 
 thing to it was to go, on murky December afternoons, to a 
 flower shop near by, where, standing on the sidewalk, he 
 could feast his eyes on the roses and the lilies and the 
 tulips in the window. They were so alluring; like fas- 
 cinating women, their beauty and their fragrance en- 
 thralled the souls of men. 
 
 36. One afternoon he saw in one corner of the window 
 a tall and slender bush of white lilacs. A dream rushed 
 over Felix — somewhere in the world was a woman, fair 
 and pure and sweet as white lilacs. But she was not for 
 him — white lilacs and head waiters do not go on four 
 
 character items thereafter may have the effect of renewing, 
 amplifying, and establishing items of the massed characterization, 
 especially when the later item comes in some concrete form of 
 presentation (S. S. M., 3-4). — Note the strength of the para- 
 graph, especially its first sentence, as a comment on economic- 
 human relationships. The reader immediately feels the injustice 
 implicit in such a situation. Yet the paragraph is not one of 
 comment, nor is there in it the slightest tint of expressed opinion. 
 The bare facts are put before us, as they are in a good newspaper 
 report, and left to make their own effect (S. S. M., 190:3; 
 194:10-196). It is one great office of fiction and drama (and 
 of all art) to make us realize life in its essentials — see its facts 
 clear and plain. They are clearest and plainest when presented 
 to us thus, in the form of a report rather than a commentary, 
 though of course the artist must write after his own fashion. 
 The matter is discussed more in detail in S. S. M., 189-206. No 
 way of measuring such things exists, — but probability indicates 
 that it is art more than propaganda that maintains and spreads 
 ideals. It does this by means such as we have been discussing. 
 36. This paragraph develops in detail the first items discussed 
 just above (par. 35) ; in addition, it includes concentrative matter. 
 (The description of his boyhood is not exposition, because the 
 matter is not necessary to explain any part of the story; it is 
 used merely to intensify the character of Lenoh. S. S. M., 
 107:30, and as far as 110:36.)
 
 488 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 legs, Felix thought in his hiiinble heart. But it brought 
 back the memory of a lilac bush in the vegetable garden 
 of the Breton farmhouse where he had been born and 
 reared. He recalled himself, a little, thin boy — for he 
 had always been thin — lying on his back on the grass, and 
 his mother, a hard-handed, big-waisted, soft-eyed peasant 
 woman, coming and playfully tickling him and making 
 him roll over and laugh on the soft, green earth. Then 
 it was that he lived over the drama of his childish 
 days. 
 
 37. But his eyes fell upon a real drama being played 
 close by. On the pavement, before a tall old lodging 
 house across the way, was a pile of furniture belonging to 
 a dispossessed tenant, and around it was gathered the 
 miscellaneous crowd that attends such sales in the Latin 
 Quarter. It was made up of sharp-eyed men and women 
 
 37-73. The second plot incident is included in these paragraphs. 
 They afford a profitable study in sequence and episode develop- 
 ment. The opening and plot motivation are found in pars. 37-38. 
 In par. 39 the motivating person of the incident is introduced, 
 with just enough of action to create and carry suspense; then 
 come local color and other atmosphere details, until, toward the end 
 of pai'. 42, we are prepared for the discovery of Lenoir's poem. 
 Note here how the climax of the discovery itself is worked up — 
 Raymond's exclamation, the reading of the poem, with Lenoir's 
 delight. Then follows the description and characterization of the 
 dream-ideal realized in the owner of the household goods, Lenoir's 
 feelings and her own uniting to strengthen the emotional climax. 
 Here ends the first climax of the episode. 
 
 The emotion quickly passes over to action (end of par. 45). 
 In what follows, characterizing, atmosphere, and action details 
 mingle, with flashes of contrast. Here Raymond is in the fore- 
 front — as such a man would be when a beautiful girl and the 
 chance to show himself off following a generous impulse were 
 at hand. Felix is working, but in the background, as his unosten-
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 489 
 
 dealers in second-hand furniture, and the ever-present 
 students and grasshoppers looking for bargains or amuse- 
 ment, because these little events in the Latin Quarter are 
 not always taken with great seriousness. The furniture 
 generally brings all it is worth, and the tenants, if of a 
 careless turn of mind, get some ready cash and go to 
 another place for a sojourn of uncertain length. 
 
 38. On this occasion, the bidding promised to be 
 particularly spirited, and Felix recognized Raymond 
 d'Artigny and several patrons of the Black Cat among 
 the bidders. The furniture was of a different sort from 
 that usually sold. It was painted white, and there were 
 cheap, but spotless, muslin curtains draped over the dress- 
 ing table, and the little knickknacks that women accumu- 
 late were dainty. 
 
 39. Felix's eye sought the owner, expecting to see a 
 
 tatious nature is to do. Observe the unobtrusive pathos — not the 
 maudHn sentiment kind — of his self-obliteration here and through- 
 out the story ; it is part of the spiritual beauty of his character — 
 and of its weakness from a worldly point of view. Yet he 
 receives what is for him a rich reward — Mile. Dupre's especial 
 notice among the crowd (pars. 64-65). This is the height of 
 the second movement of this episode. 
 
 In the paragraph, the outcome of the story itself is hinted at 
 (obsei've how this hint gives a new impulse to interest by renew- 
 ing suspense. S. S. M., 101:20 b; more generally, S. S. M., 
 100-103; 249, bottom). This division corresponds to the 
 denouement division of a plot (S. S. M., 75: C). — The principle 
 of S. S. M., 91 : 13 applies to characterization also (cf . S. S. M., 
 52:17). Instances illustrative of this principle are found in 
 the chai'acterization of Mile. Dupre in par. 38 (the furniture is 
 in keeping with the owner) ; par. 46 (the treasuring of such a 
 volume is in keeping with Mhe. Dupre's character and also with 
 her occupation). Find other instances; pick out similar instances 
 in the presentation of Lenoir; of Raymond. In par. 44 is a
 
 490 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 pretty, painted creature, extolling the cost and merits of 
 her belongings, and by adroitly working upon the sym- 
 pathy and cupidity of the crowd, getting a trifle more than 
 the things cost. There was no owner in sight, but when 
 he crossed the street Felix noticed, just within the dark 
 doorway, a figure that he knew to be the dispossessed 
 tenant. She sat on a little stool, her face hidden upon her 
 slender, outstretched arms, her hat lying on the ground, 
 her rich hair disheveled and hanging down her back, and 
 she was sobbing convulsively. Felix assumed that she was 
 a grasshopper ; but, grasshopper or not, he longed to have 
 the money to give her back her little sticks of furniture 
 and her white curtains. She was bewailing them as a 
 mother laments her children. 
 
 40. " Oh, my little dressing table ! " she wailed. " My 
 dear, dear little dressing table, with the curtains I made, 
 
 foreshadowing of one part of the outcome — Lenoir's designation 
 as king of the poets (see also par. 72) ; in par. 47 (fourth sen- 
 tence) is a hint of another part of the outcome — Raymond's 
 possession and Lenoir's non-possession of the girl. The appear- 
 ance of Mile. Dupre in the story and the impression made by her 
 on Lenoir (par. 44) and Raymond (par. 47) may be regarded 
 as the generating circumstance (with discovery) for that part 
 of the plot (see comment on story as a whole, 6, end, and on 
 par. IS, end), concerned with Lenoir's spiritual realization of 
 his ideal of woman and his missing of the satisfaction of human 
 companionship with her. — Pars. 61, 67, and passim. This Mile. 
 Dupre, teacher of languages and realization of a poet's dream 
 of womanhood, is not merely an abstraction — an inhumanly 
 bloodless creature of perfection. She is a very-much-alive French 
 woman, and therefore she " can't make her eyes behave " more 
 than they ought to. It will pay the student to write a sum- 
 marizing analysis, or descriptive character-sketch, of Mile. Dupre 
 in order to note how clearly her character is defined in the 
 author's conception, and how self-consistent it is. S. S. M., 214: 1; 
 217:4; 91:13; especially 52:17-54.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 491 
 
 and I went without any dinner for three days to buy 
 them ! " 
 
 41. So great was the noise and talk and laughter and 
 chaffing around the goods on the sidewalk that nobody but 
 Felix noticed the weeping girl within the doorway. 
 
 42. The auctioneer began his tale, and the usual ridicu- 
 lous bids were made. One student offered five hundred 
 francs for the little dressing table, because a pretty girl 
 had once looked at herself in that glass. Another one pro- 
 fessed a willingness to give a second five hundred francs 
 for a dozen little books, most of them premiums at school. 
 Raymond was examining the books, and suddenly seeing a 
 little manuscript volume, he turned over its leaves un- 
 ceremoniously. Something pasted in it struck his atten- 
 tion. He stopped his running fire of jokes and quips, and 
 read for a couple of minutes. Then, raising the volume 
 aloft, he shouted above the din : 
 
 43. " I will give a thousand francs for this volume, 
 because it contains a poem of twenty lines that could not 
 be better if it had been done by a member of the French 
 Academy or the Poets' Club at the Black Cat. Listen, all 
 of you who have souls ! " 
 
 44. The auctioneer went on with his business, while a 
 dozen youngsters and their friends gathered around Ray- 
 mond, who began to read the poem. And, oh, glory! 
 Felix heard his own poem read in Raymond's rich voice. 
 While the reading was going on, the girl who was the dis- 
 possessed owner stopped weeping and raised her head. 
 One look at her nunlike face filled Felix with shame and 
 horror at himself that ever he should have suspected her 
 of being a grasshopper. He knew that there were but two 
 kinds of women in the world — the good ones and the bad
 
 4t)'2 Today's Siiokt Stories Analyzkd 
 
 ones — and that generally their characters arc writ hirgc in 
 their eyes. This girl was the soul of purity and piety, and 
 it showed in her tear-drenched face — the face that Felix 
 had seen in his dreams. 
 
 45. It was as if the charm of the poem that Raymond 
 was declaiming thrilled her as it thrilled Felix, and, in- 
 deed, most of those who listened. When it was over, the 
 crowd applauded, and some real bids were made for the 
 little book. The girl began to cry again, and came out, 
 bareheaded and sobbing, into the street. 
 
 46. " Please give me back my little book ! It is not 
 worth anything to anybody. It cost but half a franc, and 
 has nothing in it but some poems I pasted or copied in 
 it ! " she cried. 
 
 47. The students and the young women with them 
 stopped laughing and making their grotesque bids. Their 
 hearts were touched. ISTot so the auctioneer, or the sharp- 
 ers who wanted to buy the furniture. As for Raymond, 
 the girl's aspect struck him as quickly and poignantly as 
 it bad struck poor Felix. Only, Raymond had some 
 money, and Felix had none. Raymond had just been paid 
 his weekly salary. He pulled out some bank notes, and 
 said with authority: 
 
 48. " I will satisfy the judgment, and these things may 
 be returned. How much is it the young lady owes ? " 
 
 49. " Fifty-nine francs," rejilied the auctioneer. 
 
 50. " Here it is," said Raymond, counting out the 
 money. And then, addressing the girl, he said, with a low 
 bow : " Mademoiselle, will you allow me the privilege of 
 carrying the dressing table back where it belongs ? " 
 
 51. The girl, who had stopped crying, looked at him 
 for a moment or two. Then the extent of her good fortune
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 493 
 
 dawned upon her, and a brilliant smile broke over her 
 face, which was still wet with tears. 
 
 52. '' Thank you, monsieur," she murmured, and, 
 catching her little book, she pressed it to her heart. 
 
 53. The crowd, seeing that there was to be no auction, 
 after all, quickly dispersed, except Raymond, and half a 
 dozen students, and Felix. Each one seized a chair or a 
 table or some other piece of furniture and proceeded to 
 carry it up the rickety stairs to the tiny room on the top 
 floor, where the girl lived. On the door was painted a 
 little sign, " Mademoiselle Eenee Dupre, Teacher of Lan- 
 guages." That explained to Felix the books he had 
 noticed. 
 
 54. Felix did his part in carrying up the furniture, 
 and studied well the face of Mademoiselle Eenee. Yes, 
 indeed, hers was the face for which his poet's soul had 
 been looking ! It was so delicate, so spirituelle, so full of 
 hidden fire ! She thanked them timidly for their kind- 
 ness, and when she attempted to thank Raymond, broke 
 down and wept again. 
 
 55. " You must give me your address, monsieur," she 
 said to Raymond. " I will send you the money in a lit- 
 tle while ; but I can never, never repay your kindness." 
 
 56. " Ah, mademoiselle," replied Raymond, with his 
 captivating smile, " I do not wish you to repay me the 
 money; I wish to have that much laid up where neither 
 moth nor rust doth corrupt, nor thieves break through and 
 steal." 
 
 57. " But I must pay it back," said Mademoiselle 
 Renee, with the quick conscientiousness of her kind. 
 " And I ask you to give me your card." 
 
 58. " I regret," said Raymond, with a flourishing bow,
 
 494 Today's Short Stoeies Analyzed 
 
 " that I have not a card about me ; but I will tell you who 
 I am, if you desire. I am Kaiser Wilhelm, visiting Paris 
 incognito, and this " — pointing to Felix — " is my impe- 
 rial chancellor, Otto von Bismarck." 
 
 59. Then, waving his hand magnificently, Raymond 
 proceeded to introduce the laughing crew around 
 him. 
 
 60. " This is Monsieur Clemenceau, premier of 
 France ; and this is General Brugere, minister of war. 
 Here is Professor Curie, the great discoverer of radium. 
 Also, let me present Monsieur Sully-Prudhomme, winner 
 of the Xobel prize for literature, an honor scarcely infe- 
 rior to the election as king of poets in the Latin Quarter. 
 The last king elected was Raymond d'Artigny — an excel- 
 lent fellow and a sublime poet." 
 
 61. Cheers interrupted Raymond at this point, and 
 Mademoiselle Renee's April face showed a smile that be- 
 gan with her eyes and ended with her mouth. 
 
 62. " You are pleased to jest, monsieur," she said. 
 " But you have done me a kindness which will remain in 
 my heart forever. I shall remember you in my prayers. 
 I thank all of you for your kindness." 
 
 63. She looked around the little circle, and her soft 
 eyes rested upon Felix, who had toiled upstairs half a 
 dozen times carrying burdens. 
 
 64. " And especially this gentleman, who has worked 
 so hard for me." 
 
 65. Felix made no pretensions to being a gentleman, 
 but all the pieces of furniture he had carried up seemed 
 as light as a feather when he thought of Mademoiselle 
 Renee's soft eyes and of his poem in the little manuscript 
 book.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 495 
 
 66. " I have one favor to ask," said Raymond. " Will 
 you permit me to make a copy of the poem in your manu- 
 script book ? " 
 
 67. " Rather," answered Mademoiselle Renee sweetly, 
 and with a lovely sidelong glance all her own, " would I 
 ask you to accept of the little book. I know all the poems 
 in it by heart." 
 
 68. Raymond kissed the little book, put it in his breast 
 pocket, and made a profound bow. 
 
 69. " It shall remain with me as long as I live," he 
 said, " and when my chair in the French Academy is 
 draped for my death, this book will rest upon it. Will 
 you do me the kindness to tell me the author of the poem 
 I read aloud just now ? " 
 
 70. " I wish I knew^," replied Mademoiselle Renee. 
 " All I can tell you is that one day, sitting at my window 
 and being very sad, I saw the paper lying on the window 
 ledge, blown here by the wind. I took it up and read it, 
 and it soothed my poor heart. Ever since, when the world 
 has scowled at me, I have read that poem. It is so 
 sweet ! " 
 
 71. The heart of Felix throbbed with ecstasy ; the lady 
 of his dreams loved his poem ! Was ever mortal man so 
 blest as he! 
 
 72. " I shall do all I can to find the author," replied 
 Raymond, " and if he can be discovered, I promise you he 
 shall be elected king of the poets in the Latin Quarter, the 
 greatest honor for a poet. I have the honor to bid you 
 good afternoon, mademoiselle." 
 
 73. Then all of the young men trooped down the stairs. 
 Felix followed, and carried away in his heart the memory 
 of the soft " thank you " of Mademoiselle Renee.
 
 406 Today's Suokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 74. This was on a Saturday, the last Saturday but one 
 bcfori' the thirty-first of December. By that time a hur- 
 ricaue of excitement raged in the Black Cat over the com- 
 ing election. The whole night was consumed in fierce 
 debate among the poets, and when the solemn bell of the 
 Angclus sounded from without, a voice seemed to come 
 from anotlier world, far off and full of peace. Immedi- 
 ately, there was a stampede to see the Fiddle discharge its 
 guests, and presently Felix went out, not indeed to see the 
 sight, but to inhale a breath of the cold, pure air of the 
 wintry dawn. 
 
 75. Just as he got outside, a merry little grasshopper 
 ran up to him, and, linking her arm in his, proceeded to 
 dance toward the church, making Felix dance, too. But, 
 oh misery and shame! Just as he reached the church 
 steps, he saw Mademoiselle Eenee tripping into the 
 church, her slim figure all in black, her sweet face half 
 hidden by a close, black veil. Felix w'riggled away from 
 the grasshopper, and, turning to look, saw Raymond doing 
 the same ungallant thing. Each went alone into the dim 
 church, and saw Mademoiselle Eenee kneeling in a dark 
 corner by a pillar. Her eyes, rapt and serenely soft, 
 looked to Felix like the eyes of the pale Madonna over 
 the altar. 
 
 74. Observe the way the transition is made. Cf. the transition 
 from par. 36 to par. 37. Great skill is shown in maintaining 
 connection between the pai'ts of this story. Find other examples. 
 — Observe how the last sentence keeps Lenoir true to the char- 
 acter conceived for him, and freshens our recollection of it. 
 
 75. Situation hints involving mood hints (mental state) ; 
 S. S. M., 257: character hints. — Note the way in which (last sen- 
 tence) Lenoir's state of mind is indicated without use of psycho- 
 logical narration (S. S. M., 228) ; see S. S. M., 50: 15.— The next 
 three paragraphs are of the same sort.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 497 
 
 76. Felix had a notion that Mademoiselle Renee came 
 every morning to the little church, and he got into the evil 
 habit of breaking his few short hours of sleep at six 
 o'clock every morning, to be rewarded by a glimpse of 
 Mademoiselle Renee mounting the church steps. On the 
 following Sunday morning, he remained in hiding until 
 every blessed grasshopper was out of sight. So did Ray- 
 mond, who thrust his tongue into his cheek, and, nudging 
 Felix, said: 
 
 77. " Remember, you scoundrel, that you have never 
 seen me speak to a grasshopper. Do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 78. Felix understood. 
 
 79. Then the time was at hand for the great election. 
 The event was so important that on the night of Saturday, 
 the thirty-first of December, when a minor poet at the 
 Black Cat ventured to speak of the chances of a general 
 European war, he was howled down, and told not to inter- 
 rupt the proceedings with drivel about trifles. 
 
 80. The cafe was crowded, and the tables were set 
 together so as to form one long table, extending from end 
 to end of the low-ceiled room. Raymond d'Artigny, as 
 
 79. The last (third) plot incident begins. — Observe the one- 
 sentence transition that is able to account for nearly a week's 
 time. Note too its almost Biblical style — brevity, simplicity, 
 completeness. 
 
 80-81. Study the way in which the description is managed. 
 Note how the impression of crowd and confusion is obtained ; how 
 the picture is given outline and concreteness — the long table in the 
 low-ceiled room, with three prominent persons. These represent 
 different elements of the scene. Raymond, at the head of the long 
 table, implies all the literary guests filling the length of the board. 
 Lasalle, trigged out in evening clothes and prosperous ornaments, 
 gives, as he moves about among the guests, a color-and-costumo
 
 498 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 retiring king of tlio poets, had the head of the table. 
 Lasalle was on hand in evening dress, his ample white 
 waistcoat decorated with a stupendous gold chain, which 
 would have answered equally well for a watch or for a 
 dog, giving orders that nobody heeded, stopping the wait- 
 ers to tell them to make haste, and making himself gen- 
 erally important and ridiculous. 
 
 81. Felix scurried about, his sallow face a little paler 
 from hard work and excitement, and his lanky hair stick- 
 ing to his head with the dampness. Never was there so 
 uproarious a night at the Black Cat, and there had been 
 a number of uproarious nights there. Everybody shouted 
 and nobody listened, meals were ordered and never eaten, 
 while patrons consumed one another's drinks promis- 
 cuously. 
 
 and a bearing contrast; he represents, on the side of character- 
 quality, bourgeois dignity, self-importance, and dumbness; and he 
 is necessary in such a scene for verisimilitude, because the pro- 
 prietor is usually present in the cafe. (The principle of S. S. M., 
 91 : 13-14 applies in description. Effective description calls for 
 care in the economy of detail — S. S. M., 80 : 3 — with selection only 
 of that which is most representative of the aspect to be sug- 
 gested. Cf. S. S. M., 60 : 17 ; 116, end of par. 2 ; 182 : 6.) Lenoir 
 represents another element of such a scene — the activity and the 
 picture quality inherent in the presence of waiters (see how true 
 to fact the picture-hint of him is). It will be noted that two of 
 these three persons are persons of direct plot value. The remain- 
 ing sentences convey more fully the impi'ession of crowd and 
 excitement. — What feeling for psychological values led the author 
 to write out " Raymond D'Artigny " in full (par. 80, sentence 2), 
 and curtly to say "Lasalle"? Why is Lenoir so often spoken 
 of as Felix? Why is D'Artigny also mentioned frequently by 
 his name of Raymond? — Why is Lenoii^'s lack of physical at- 
 tractiveness repeatedly put before us, as in par. 81? Cf. th- 
 mention made of Raymond in various passages. See S. S. M. 
 223 : 10.
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 499 
 
 82. The discussion began at midnight, and was in full 
 blast all night. The situation was complicated by the 
 fact that every man present was a candidate, and followed 
 the advice of Niccolo Fachiavelli, to take his own part. 
 Raymond d'Artigny harangued, scolded, shouted, laughed, 
 and menaced, but nobody heeded him. At last, taking off 
 his shoe he rapped violently with it on the table and con- 
 tinued to make himself heard. A viva-voce ballot was 
 taken. Every man shouted out his own name for the 
 honor of king of the poets. 
 
 83. " Poets," cried Raymond, " we are all great, that 
 I admit, but we must elect a king — a worthy successor to 
 myself! Now that Beranger and Alfred de Musset are 
 dead, it will, of course, be a difficult task to find a fit suc- 
 cessor to me, Raymond d'Artigny, poet and journalist. 
 But there is a man — an unknown man, and a dweller in 
 the Latin Quarter — who has written a poem worthy of me, 
 of Victor Hugo, of Sully-Prudhomme, of anybody ! I say 
 he dwells in the Latin Quarter, because only among us 
 could such a poet be found. It is unnecessary to look for 
 great poets elsewhere. 
 
 84. Then Raymond, jumping on the table, took from 
 
 82-92. In this and nearly all the paragraphs following is much 
 collective characterization, or class characterization (cf. S. S. M., 
 257, on social characterization and its function). Pick out the 
 acts and speeches that represent type qualities of persons of this 
 Bohemian-poet class. In forming an opinion of the class, note 
 that the author does not exckide the impulses of unselfishness and 
 generosity (par. 83). — Does any detail offend, i.e., seem out of 
 keeping with the prevailing tone? If so, is this the effect of 
 excessive concreteness in realistic detail? In a story of poetic 
 idealism, would a touch of the burlesque be contradictory? (On 
 consistency and congruity, see S. S. M., 91:13; 250, "Is it").
 
 500 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 his breast pocket the little manuscript volume given him 
 by Mademoiselle Rence, and also a copy of a great Paris 
 newspaper. The noise stopped, and the silence grew in- 
 tense, as Raymond spoke : 
 
 85. " I sent this poem to the great newspapers, saying 
 that the author was unknown. See, the newspaper has 
 printed it, imploring the author, for the honor of French 
 literature, to reveal himself. Listen ! " 
 
 86. Eaymond read the lines — read them with such 
 feeling, such pathos, such exquisite intonation, that the 
 music of his voice seemed a part of the poem, as the thril- 
 ling of the lute is a part of the song. Felix listened as in 
 a dream. 
 
 87. As the last perfect line was read, a great roar of 
 cheering and stamping broke forth. 
 
 88. " The unknown is king ! The unknown is king ! " 
 they yelled. 
 
 89. Eaymond, by taking off both shoes and pounding 
 
 86. Observe the sudden passage from the humorous to the 
 earnest. This quick, natural setting off of one mood with another 
 is very effective, if well clone, as in the contrast passages in this 
 story. The contrast must be true, however, and enter the story 
 with great naturalness ; othenvise it seems like straining for effect. 
 — Probably the decisive moment (S. S. M., 94: 5) comes with Ray- 
 mond's reading of Lenoir's poem, so far as the objective, or struc- 
 tural, plot is concerned. But in the effect of the story, there is 
 a second decisive point (par. 100) — when Raymond is con- 
 clusively identified as Mile. Dupre's accepted. 
 
 87-88. Note their brevity and sufficiency. The unskilled writer 
 would be likely to tiy to emphasize the importance of the action 
 by amplifying. That would thwart his purpose. Cf. S. S. M., 
 67 : 18. On the adequacy of the few words employed, see S. S. M., 
 66 : 17. 
 
 89. Cf. the comment on par. 86. — How many different moods 
 are to be felt in pars. 86-89? Name them,
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 501 
 
 them with both hands on the table, secured a moment's 
 lull. 
 
 90. " Immortals," he cried, " listen to a fellow im- 
 mortal ! I have this day come into a triple inheritance. 
 I have secured the love of the lady of my heart; I have 
 inherited a competence in fortune ; and I have made known 
 to the world the greatest poet of the Latin Quarter. I ask 
 you to drink the health of the unknown poet in cham- 
 pagne." 
 
 91. This paralyzed the crowd; it seemed too good to be 
 true ; but when Felix and Lasalle himself began filling the 
 extraordinary order, they believed it. ]^ot only did every 
 patron of the Black Cat that night drink champagne, but 
 a wizen-faced cabman outside had his glass, and Raymond, 
 with his own hands, poured a bottle into a pail, and, tak- 
 ing it out, treated the cabman's sorry horse to such a draft 
 as he had never had before in his melancholy life, and 
 made him frisk all over the place. 
 
 92. The unknown was king — that was settled. Mean- 
 while, the unknown went about his humble duties, clean- 
 ing up the debris and trying to get things in some sort of 
 order. Suddenly, while the fun was still roaring, the 
 
 90. Consider sentence 3. Has the fact of riches been prepared 
 for? Does it need to be; i.e., does it now strike us too abruptly? 
 Can you see any way of preparing us for the announcement 
 without blemishing the story? Would an additional sentence in 
 par. 80 (following sentence 2) be noticed unpleasantly, to the 
 effect that Raymond was better dressed than usual and had an 
 unwonted air of prosperity? In some earlier speech, could he 
 refer to postponed expectations? 
 
 92. Suppose the story has been made to stop here. Then read 
 S. S. M., 169: 1-3. Does this story need a distinct ending? What 
 — if anything — is accomplished by means of the paragraphs that 
 follow from this point? S. S. M., 117; 4-121; 169-173.
 
 502 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 soiiml of tlio Angclus bell from the little church boomed 
 in the darkness outside. It was the signal for everybody 
 to rush across the street and take part in the final cere- 
 monies of the Fiddle. 
 
 93. The doors of the police station were surrounded by 
 the usual laughing, pushing, weeping crew, and the two- 
 franc pieces w^ere being shoved into the little window to 
 the guardian of the peace, who took them. The crowds, 
 augmented by that from the Black Cat, made the narrow 
 little street populous and hilarious. A couple of gas 
 lamps flickered in the blackness, and a great flood of light 
 from the windows of the cafe and the glaring lanterns at 
 the Fiddle illuminated the throng. 
 
 94. Immediately the procession was made to the church. 
 Two men, however, Raymond and Felix, slipped out and 
 were waiting on the church steps. By that time, Mademoi- 
 selle Renee had appeared and passed like a shadow through 
 the door held open by the stern-faced ecclesiastic. Di- 
 rectly after her went Raymond, who followed her to her 
 place behind the pillar, and kneeled next her. In the 
 gloom of the little church, Felix watched them, kneeling a 
 little way off, where he could see their faces. Raymond 
 looked at Renee with adoring eyes, and the girl looked at 
 
 94. Last sentence: To what extent is the act characteristic of 
 human nature, and to what extent does it characterize the persons 
 as individuals? Is the behavior of Lenoir (preceding sentence) 
 consistent with his character (cf., besides others, par. 101) ? — The 
 reader even yet probably feels that Lenoir may turn out to be 
 Mile. Dupre's preference; it is this feeling that gives the falling 
 action suspense and so cai'ries our interest to the end. S. S. M., 
 74 : B and note ; 93 : 4. Are there two climactic moments ; cf . 
 pars. 83-91. Are both emotional? Which is the more intense? 
 Does the situation in pars. 94-101 constitute the emotional acme 
 of the story?
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 503 
 
 the altar, with a rapture of love and faith in her delicate, 
 speaking face. 
 
 95. Like ghosts, the crowd from the Black Cat and 
 from the Fiddle moved into the church, and almost filled 
 it. Never was there a multitude more devout, partly be- 
 cause they were compelled to be quiet, and partly because 
 it was the custom, and partly because the mighty hand of 
 mysticism was laid upon them, and the sanctuary lamp 
 showed them the place where resided the Presence. 
 
 96. In the midst of the silence came the deep roll of the 
 organ, and the choir began the Christmas hymn. It sang 
 
 95. " Like ghosts." As a picture-hint (S. S. M., 257-258), this 
 is accurate (see facts of time and light in par. 93) ; but is it true 
 to the fact as a mood hint? Is this story a dream story or a 
 real-life story — i.e., which does it concretely embody, ideals, or 
 facts of life as it is ordinarily experienced ("realism")? The 
 author is reporting life as she dreams its ultimate truths to be, 
 and as these truths are opposed to the practical daily facts that 
 appear on the surface, her treatment and mood alike have a 
 quality of the immaterial. However concrete the embodiment she 
 gives her leading figures, they remain nevertheless spiritual types. 
 Like ghosts of the final truths of life, they move before her 
 imagination and our vision. Most likely the comparison, " like 
 ghosts," was not chosen intentionally through any such course of 
 reasoning, and it may have occurred to her merely as part of 
 her artist's conception of the physical scene. On the other hand, 
 it may very well have been intentionally selected; for the artist 
 is a workman as well as a dreamer, and has the skill of the 
 workman in consciously selecting the means that will express with 
 precision and effectiveness what his artist's vision perceives. In 
 any case, there is always a truth discoverable under any coherent 
 body of facts that are true to nature; see S. S. M., 35:21-22. 
 
 96-98. The emotional acme of the story, and in one sense, the 
 main situation, is here. We cannot call it the main plot situation, 
 however, except by regarding the plot as one of spiritual, not 
 external, incident ; and though the carrying plot here is slight, it 
 consists of external incident. See introd. note 5.
 
 504 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 one verse of the hymn welcoming the Divine Child, and 
 then sank into silence, only one voice cleaving the air with 
 mnsic, and singing " Vcnite adoremus." Again the words 
 floated out, this time with two voices, the sharp sweetness 
 of the soprano mingling with the deeper melody of the 
 alto. All at once the choir burst forth into a great musical 
 cry of " Venite adoremus! Dominum." 
 
 97. The noble hymn of joy and welcome thrilled all 
 who heard it. There were no distinctions. Pale mothers 
 and angry fathers were one with the painted grasshoppers, 
 who, for one moment, became innocent women, and wore 
 the same look upon their glorified faces, the look of the 
 Blessed Mother who held the little Child Jesus in her 
 arms. For a brief minute, the world and all its wicked- 
 ness was forgotten in one mighty act of supreme welcome 
 and adoration. 
 
 98. The organ pealed and thundered, and the choir 
 sang on. Outside in the street, little boys shouted: 
 " Noel ! ISToel ! " Then came the awful moment of the 
 elevation, when all sounds melted away into a solemn si- 
 lence which lasted for a brief time. Then once more the 
 joyous Christmas music began, and lasted until the lights 
 were put out on the altar, and only the ever-present sanc- 
 tuary lamp gleamed. 
 
 99. The people trooped out of the church and resumed 
 
 97. "Pale mothers. ..." Cf. par. 6. Little is once intro- 
 duced into this story that is not made to do duty again. In later 
 situations, the story uses details already introduced, as the means 
 to producing the effects desired. This results in close coherence 
 of effect and represents great economy of detail (S. S. M., 
 80:3; 116:2). 
 
 99-101. Relaxes, but not too abruptly, the intensity of the pre- 
 ceding paragi'aph, and helps to provide the last of the contrasts
 
 The Cat and the Fiddle 505 
 
 their everyday characters. The grasshoppers were grass- 
 hoppers still, and the tipsy boys and fighting, drinking, 
 disreputable men and women were ready to go back to 
 their everyday employments of fighting and drinking and 
 tippling and dancing and all manner of gay wickedness. 
 But they had experienced one of those moments in which 
 all men and women are of kin, all are the children of the 
 good God. 
 
 100. Mademoiselle Eenee walked down the steps of the 
 church alone; Eaymond was a little way off. He would 
 not violate propriety so much as to be seen in the street 
 with Mademoiselle Eenee, but when he took off his hat 
 to her in the cold, gray dawn and she gave him her be- 
 witching sidelong glance, their hearts spoke the language 
 known to all who love. 
 
 through which so much of the effect of this story comes. Here we 
 have the ordinary mob of citizens returning unchanged to their 
 mediocre ways after passing through a great and inspiring emo- 
 tional experience. Not so Lenoir (par. 101). In spite of human 
 disappointment, his spirit remains exalted. Between these two 
 extremes are Raymond and Mile. Dupre — the one softened and 
 raised by divine worship and human love, the other exalted by 
 the service, but softened and drawn to earth by human affection. 
 — Observe that, if we count the emotional situation developed in 
 pars. 92-98 as an essential part of the body of the story — the 
 grand climax and closing episode of the spiritual plot — then the 
 close of the story occupies only the three paragraphs — 99, 100, 
 101. If we do not regard the story as having a spiritual or 
 emotional plot-plan (as w^ell as a plot of external incident), the 
 election of Lenoir as king-poet ends the last incident that con- 
 nects itself with the plot, and the pars. 92-101 must be deemed 
 a separate close. Inasmuch as the outcome of the external plot — 
 Lenoir's election — is not the total outcome of the situation, we 
 seem almost warranted in saying that there is a plot of spiritual 
 fact as well as a true plot of outward incident, and that the 
 outcome of the spiritual " plot " (situation involving opposed
 
 500 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 101. There was not much doing at the Black Cat, and 
 Felix remained in the church. His heart was strangely 
 chill, but his spirit soared like a bird. lie was only a 
 head waiter, but he had seen the lady of his dreams, and 
 he could, if he chose, have been king of all the poets in 
 the Latin Quarter — that is to say, of all the poets in the 
 world. 
 
 spiritual forces) is found in par. 92 to the end. But this mate- 
 rial is readily classifiable as intensifying material, intended to 
 have emotional appeal (S. S. M., 63: 14; 65: 16) ; hence our con- 
 elusion becomes a matter of choosing terms without altering essen- 
 tial facts. — Observe that the story ends with attention on Lenoir, 
 but that the two accessory persons are also kept before us up 
 to the last paragraph but one. The management that thus keeps 
 the most significant figures before us to the end is skillful 
 dramaturgy. To drop important persons before the decisive 
 moment or the grand climax often leaves the reader with a sense 
 of unsatisfied interest, and is to be avoided. On the other hand, 
 secondary persons usually must — we speak now only of the conte 
 — be got out of the way before the very last, in order that the 
 leading person may have our closing thought. They may of 
 course still be on the stage, but they must not take the center of 
 it, nor enter the spotlight, except to contribute emphasis to the 
 chief actor.
 
 THE OPAL MORNING 
 The Stoey as a Whole 
 
 1. In " The Opal Morning " we have a character story 
 (S. S. M., 25:5, 43:1-7 and ff. to 54). Its motif 
 (S. S.M., 96 : 10) is expression of the existence of deeper 
 and finer ideals beneath what circumstances may make 
 most obvious in the life of the individual. This thought 
 the author presents to us by means of two definitely con- 
 ceived persons in a course of action representative of life 
 in a particular kind of uncongenial environment, and cul- 
 minating in a climactic situation with a conclusive out- 
 come; the whole producing an atmosphere of selfish sor- 
 didness gradually displaced by higher motive. 
 
 2. The struggle necessary to dramatic presentation is 
 that of the higher ideals and sympathies to express them- 
 selves in an opposed environment, and to triumph over 
 the deadening influence of these hostile forces. Allison 
 attains to expression of his better self through his poetry ; 
 Helene expresses herself through music. The conclusive 
 outcome is the triumph of their higher natures, beginning 
 in their recognition of each other as kindred spirits, and 
 their alliance for the better things of life. (The principle, 
 that the conclusive outcome is not inevitable, but merely 
 logical, is clearly established by such stories as " The 
 Opal Morning." With a little shifting of emphasis, Al- 
 lison and Helene could have been shown as electing to 
 persist in the old environment and life instead of rising 
 " on stepping stones of their dead selves." This outcome 
 
 607
 
 608 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 would have been as conclusive as the other, and equally 
 as well founded as an interpretation of actual life, though 
 it would not have been as satisfying to our moral sense. 
 See S. S. M., 151 bottom and 16: 3-4. — Had the outcome 
 been thus changed, we should have lost a " happy ending," 
 and in this story it is our moral sense that desires the 
 happy ending. From this consideration we can draw the 
 conclusion, that the happy ending is at times — depending 
 on the theme and motif of the particular story — required 
 for the sake of the artistic effect through which the inter- 
 pretation of life is to be accomplished. Note, however, 
 that in truth the solution of a problem of life is involved 
 here (which course is the more desirable, that chosen by 
 the tw^o leading persons for their future, or that abandoned 
 by them in making the choice?), and that only the happy 
 ending permits that solution which our ethical sense pre- 
 fers. Therefore, since art is under no obligation to pro- 
 pose problems, and still less to offer a solution of them 
 unless it chooses so to do, the conclusion drawn above will 
 be valid only for stories in which the problem plus its 
 solution is actually involved in the plan. S. S. M., 
 (26:1-3), 27:4-13; 178:1-3. 
 
 3. This story illustrates also the possibility of utiliz- 
 ing the '' love element " without throwing it into chief 
 prominence or making its foundation in " sex " the domi- 
 nating fact. From this point of view, we may study the 
 narrative as an example of subordination — the keeping 
 of desirable and indeed essential facts within definite 
 bounds, determined immediately by the author's concep- 
 tion of the story, and ultimately (if we so choose to re- 
 gard it) by instinctive moral preference ("taste") and 
 fundamental view of life. For the student-writer, the sig-
 
 The Opal Morning 509" 
 
 nificant fact is the possibility noted in the first sentence 
 of this note — that the love element can be utilized without 
 making it the chief raison d'etre for the story. How is it 
 with '' The Cat and the Fiddle " ? " The Love of Men " ? 
 " A Kag-Time Lady " ? Other stories in this volume ? To 
 what extent is sex, as such, an element in " Tropics " ? 
 
 4. It is left for the student to decide, if he can, whether 
 '' The Opal Morning " is most a story of plot, of theme, 
 of character, or of atmosphere. When he has decided, he 
 may refer to S. S. M., 45 : 6-7 (sents. 1 and 2).
 
 THE OPAL MORNING 
 
 By Ethel Watts Mumford 
 
 Reprinted from " McClure's" for April, 1917, by Permission of the 
 
 Editors and the Author. 
 
 (Copyright, 1917) 
 
 1. Amused at his own agitation, Forbes Allison opened 
 the envelope that bore the imprint of the clipping-bureau. 
 Man of the world that he was, successful, tyrannical, self- 
 indulgent, and rather unscrupulous, he was wont to pat- 
 ronize mildly the enthusiastic, diffident, emotional, and 
 idealistic half of himself that shamefacedly set forth its 
 lyric soul under the nom de plume of " Forrest Allyne." 
 
 2. The notices were numerous and lengthy. " I, Too, 
 Have Been in Arcady " had proved itself a volume of ex- 
 ceptional verse. Even his cynic self was forced to acknowl- 
 edge that it was good. It had warmth and fire; it had 
 mood and magic. He grinned as he thought of the amaze- 
 
 1-5. Obser\'e the immediate beginning, with sweeping charac- 
 terization. S. S. M., 122 : 1-5 ; 137 : 2, 140 : 7-8 ; 148 : 17-19. To 
 what extent is disarrangement and relocation of incident (S. S. M., 
 122:2) employed in this story? Cf. par. 6 and later passages. 
 Note the amplifying details of character introduced in pars. 2-5. — 
 Must our impression of the hero, or the heroine, always be 
 favorable? To what extent may it be unpleasant at the begin- 
 ning? Must this impression be changed before the end, or can 
 it sometimes be continued to the end? What is the ease in the 
 present story? 
 
 2. Since Helene and Allison must be unknown to each other in 
 their better character, this ignorance has to be motivated. Does 
 the device by which this is accomplished with reference to Allison 
 
 510
 
 The Opal Morning 511 
 
 ment and incredulity of his friends should they ever learn 
 the author's identity. Frequently the notices featured a 
 portrait, purporting to be that of the mythical Allyne. 
 Allison had taken great pains to secure a presentment that 
 satisfied his notion of what the writer of the Arcadian 
 songs ought to look like. A famous artist who had been 
 intrusted with the secret, had supj^lied the ideal head, a 
 profile study of a youthful, delicate face, the chin a trifle 
 long, deep-set eyes, an expression at once thoughtful and 
 challenging; a mass of waving, intensely black hair; clear, 
 firm lines of throat and jaw, with a suggestion of tense 
 words — a type of dreamer to make others dream ; the face 
 of a saint and a lover ; a young St. John, yet very much 
 of earth — in short, the perfect poet. 
 
 3. Allison glanced at his reflection in the long mirror 
 let into the hanging-closet door, and decided that in him, 
 Allyne had an excellent alibi — tall, lean, Mephistophelian 
 of countenance, with heavily lined skin, and eyes that had 
 burned themselves deep under their brows ; mobile, search- 
 ing lips, at once weary and desirous ; an old-young face, at 
 once predatory and generous. He sighed. There were 
 times when he disliked his type. 
 
 4. He turned again to the criticisms. They were not 
 criticisms, they were lauds. Not one but praised, not a 
 dissonant note in the chorus of adulation. " A new 
 
 contribute to suspense ("interest") ? Is mystery, even of a mild 
 sort, a stimulus to curiosity? S. S. M., 126:7, 134:20-21. Is 
 the present device plausible? S. S. M., 90 : 9-11, 92 : 14. Is it as 
 plausible as the device by which Helene concealed her identity 
 (par. 69) ? — Why should Allison's device be explained at the 
 first of the narrative, and Helene's left unexplained until so 
 near its close?
 
 512 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 voice," " an inspired touch," ^' the clear flame of genius." 
 Even " the dean " allowed " undoubted promise." 
 
 5. His curiosity and his vanity satisfied, Allison thrust 
 the bulginc; envelope into the companionship of at least 
 a dozen more, and turned to the rest of his mail. Smart 
 little notes of feminine form and savor, square business 
 communications, lordly announcements of exclusive haber- 
 dashers and hatters, strong paper oblongs from bankers 
 and brokers, and a package from his publishers. Again 
 with amused tolerance Allison permitted his authorial self 
 to seize upon that missive to the neglect of more impor- 
 tant matters. A short, typewritten, congratulatory note, 
 and an inclosure of letters, addressed to Forrest Allyne — 
 an editor asking that he submit something ; a word of per- 
 sonal appreciation from a fellow poet, a lady who patron- 
 ized the arts and " would be pleased to see him at her 
 reception on the fifth." 
 
 6. Then his eye caught a cheap envelope, addressed in 
 a rather unformed but individual hand. He paused. This 
 
 6-8. Does what is here introduced amount to exciting moment 
 (S. S. M., 85:1-3), or is it merely a plot-detail so introduced as 
 to stimulate suspense? Pars. 6-8 indicate the existence of a sec- 
 ond person, not yet introduced, toward whom the first person 
 will sustain some relationship, though of what sort does not yet 
 appear. Is this enough to constitute a " comiDlieation "? Or may 
 a story have two parallel complications, the inner conflict being 
 revealed by an outer body of incident, so that the carrying plot 
 is objective, whereas the really significant struggle is subjective 
 (in this story, spiritual)? How was it in "An Epilogue"? 
 " The Cat and the Fiddle "? " Tropics "? If the carrying plot 
 can be merely such a series of external fact as is necessary to 
 present the spiritual conflict, need it be explicitly complete? 
 For instance, has this story any explicit point of generating 
 circumstance, or exciting moment, in its carrying plot? None is 
 presented directly. Had it been, we should have an account of
 
 The Opal Mokning 513 
 
 would be — her tenth letter. He had grown to have a real 
 feeling for his unknown little country-girl correspondent. 
 As he slit the flap and withdrew the inclosure an un- 
 mounted photograph fluttered to the desk. A girl's face 
 looked up at him, a girl in a sunbonnet, her features in 
 shadow. His first impression was a shock of acute wonder. 
 How in the world could such a beautiful creature be kept 
 in domestic subjection on a farm ? That kind always made 
 their escape somehow. She certainly must see the news- 
 papers and the Sunday supplements. She must know that 
 she compared more than favorably with many a profes- 
 sional beauty, and she was the isolated little soul whose 
 letters breathed loneliness as persistently as a garden pink 
 sends out its heart in pungent, unmistakable fragrance ! 
 
 7. The portrait showed just a head and shoulders. The 
 background a flaking of sun-patched lilac leaves. Her 
 dress was a striped gingham, open at the throat — not even 
 a brooch. The one hand that was raised to straighten the 
 bonnet was ringless. 
 
 8. He stared, fascinated ; then, opening a drawer drew 
 out a packet — the other nine letters. In the light of her 
 sudden visualization he was minded to glance at them 
 again. He freed the first one from the rubber band. 
 Strange that of all the correspondence his work had 
 
 the moment when Helene, moved by Allison's poetry, wrote the 
 first letter. But instead of this, the generating circumstance and 
 exciting moment are merely suggested by the letter itself and 
 such references as grow out of its introduction. — Note the pro- 
 vision for later surprise and contrast effect in the comment that 
 closes par. 6. — ' What purpose does this sentence serve in the 
 working the effect of the story as a whole? Is it a hint or 
 forecast, or an emphasizer of an impression we have already 
 received? Would it be better omitted?
 
 514 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 evoked, he had kept only her letters/ After all, what were 
 they ? A sheaf of childish impressions, very direct, for 
 she looked with her own eyes and described what she saw — 
 but why ? lie recalled how, acting on an idle impulse, he 
 had tossed that first shamefaced little note into the drawer. 
 He read it now with her picture propped before him. He 
 wanted to associate her likeness with his first impression 
 of her. The new communication could wait its turn. 
 
 9. " I thank you so for your book," he read. " I've 
 always loved nature, and it's lucky I do, for I'm marooned 
 in the middle of an awful lot of it. But you've said things 
 in such a way that you've doubled my pleasure, you've 
 helped me fill my days with enjoyment of the out-of-doors. 
 Best of all the poems I like ' The Opal Morning,' and I 
 see so many dawns, it has helped me not to yawn. Some 
 mornings are opal, aren't they ? And some, in early 
 spring, are like moonstones, so clear and yet so milky — 
 limpid mornings. Do you know that strange, thick, 
 sticky dark red that lies in the East before sun-up in the 
 autumn ? I never see it but it gives me the shivers. It's 
 ghostly. I wonder how you'd describe it. To me it looks 
 like nothing so much as sinister, poisonous, smeary jam. 
 
 9-16. At this point make a careful Hst of the character qualities 
 of " Me," based entirely on her letters. After completing your 
 study of the story, take this list and determine wherein, if at 
 all, it needs revising to make it represent the essential truth 
 about her character. In her moods is she a ci'eature " of infinite 
 variety"? Does this agree with the revelation of her tastes and 
 profession in par. 94? Review now S. S. M., 214: 1-5. — Pick out 
 all in the letters that suggests a fundamental sympathy in ideals 
 and tastes between Allison and Helene; does the story as a whole 
 show that this fundamental sympathy existed? List its elements.
 
 The Opal Morning 515 
 
 Gray, dun-colored daybreaks I hate. They make every- 
 thing and everybody look as if they ought never to have 
 lived at all. 
 
 10. " You see how I ramble on. You'll forgive me, 
 won't you ? You don't have to read me. And I'm so lonely 
 it gives me pleasure to write to you and tell you how really 
 much your poems matter to me. I'll give this to the man 
 who goes in with our milk cans to the station. Some one 
 of the train men will take it in and post it in New York. 
 I'd rather you didn't know the ugly name of my town. 
 Perhaps I shall write you again. You'll know my hand- 
 writing and throw it in the scrap-basket. But if you 
 could guess how starved for companionship I am, you 
 might forgive me for being a silly fool. Good-by. Thank 
 you for letting me talk to you. " Just — Me." 
 
 11. Allison smiled and turned back to the first page. 
 " Marooned in the middle of an awful lot of nature." He 
 chuckled as he took up the jDhotograph and looked at it 
 long. Then he spread the tenth letter before him. 
 
 12. "Dear You: 
 
 " You see I'm being even sillier than ever. I'm send- 
 ing you a kodak taken last year — as if you cared ! By 
 this time I imagine you'll run when you see me coming. 
 But it doesn't matter. I shall tell myself that you are 
 delighted ; that you put me in a silver frame and keep 
 
 12. ' Cf. par. 3 and 72-78, especially 76 and 78. Note the effect 
 of pathos worked by means of these far-separated passages. 
 They afford an illustration of the necessity for realizing the story 
 in its entirety before writing. The same is true of the passage 
 (1) at the close of par, 8. — " Is this a touch of feminine human- 
 nature, or an indication that she is deeply interested in him? Or 
 is it both?
 
 516 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 1110 on your desk. That's what I've done with you, and 
 I hope you feel flattered. I found a picture of you in 
 a paper, and cut it out. I bought the frame at a rum- 
 mage sale at the M. E. Church. It's hideous, but it 
 just fits. I have to keep it hidden. They'd think I'd 
 gone crazy if they saw it — they'd be quite right, too. 
 But I want to tell you how glad I am that you look the 
 way you do.^ Why, you're beautiful ! You couldn't 
 help writing as you do, when you are like that. I never 
 get tired of looking at you, and I don't believe you are 
 spoiled a bit. Do crowds of other girls write to you as 
 I do ? " I wonder. Oh, I forgot to tell you ' The Opal 
 Morning ' is folded in back of your picture. No, I 
 didn't tear it out of the book. I got that, too, from a 
 reprint in one of the reviews. Oh, no, the book should 
 never be hurt like that. I'm amazed at you for think- 
 ing I'd do such a thing. Why, it's so alive, I was afraid 
 to cut the pages I adore, I was sure they'd bleed. 
 
 13. " ' Sky Island ' — that was in one of the maga- 
 zines last month, but I saw it only yesterday. I have 
 little time to read. I'm so tired at the end of my work 
 that I could cry. What made you write ' The Steed 
 with Wings ' ? It doesn't seem like you. I tried to 
 imagine our old Jerry with those ^ pinions of light and 
 of fire, flashing in infinite space. ' I'm perfectly certain 
 he'd find some way to kick with them — forgive me, I'm 
 bluer than ever today. Do you have to be with people 
 you dislike, all the time, I wonder ? Do you have to 
 keep friends with people who rub you all wrong ? I 
 have to. My soul is sand-papered till it's raw. But one 
 has to go on living, you know, and one has to be worth 
 one's salt — and the cost of living is going up 1 One has
 
 I 
 
 The Opal Morning 517 
 
 to work hard. I wish I had a river here. I used to live 
 near one. I loved particularly the eddies that always 
 looked as if they were humped above some creature 
 underneath that was just about to force through and 
 show itself. Here there's a pool — oh, yes, and a cas- 
 cade, a rockery^a horrid stilted made thing. I've 
 grown to hate its pour, pour, pour, always just the same 
 amount of water falling down the same number of 
 stairs. . . . 
 
 14. " I didn't mean to be so complaining. My last 
 letter was cheerfuller, wasn't it ? So — please — for- 
 give " Me." 
 
 15. Allison found the " cheerfuller " letter and turned 
 to the last page. 
 
 16. " I've been full of irresponsible gayety. I don't 
 know why. I laugh for laughing's sake. I dance and 
 dance and enjoy it just for dancing, and I let myself 
 out when I sing, just for the ' push ' of it. I'm just hav- 
 ing a puppy fit, I guess. . . . My, how they run and 
 roll — or a kitten scooting wildly about and doing 
 strange things. I'm sure I don't know why. I've got 
 no particular reason to be bubbling. But gayety turns 
 to you, too. You see, it isn't just in my blues and 
 sobers that I love your songs. You seem to have that 
 in you, too, that just-can't-help-it laughter. It's there in 
 ' Pan's Hoofprint,' and in ' The Little Masque,' in- 
 ' The Slipped Tether,' and ' Truant Love.' So just be- 
 cause I feel so irresponsible — I want to write to you. 
 So if you've ever forgiven me at all — forgive me now 
 for giggling — I can't help it — it's just " Ms^"
 
 518 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 17. lie slipped the letters back into their receptacle 
 and tossed the picture on top of them. Then he smiled. 
 She " had told herself that he would put her picture 
 in a silver frame and keep it ever before him." Well, 
 just for the whim of it, he'd give her reason. With- 
 out compunction he removed the presentment of a very 
 beautiful lady from an oval of gold, thrust into the inap- 
 propriately gorgeous surrounding the face of the girl in 
 a gingham sunbonnet, and ceremoniously placed it, the 
 center ornament of his work-table. Allison shook himself. 
 He had pandered to his ridiculous, chuckle-headed lyric 
 self long enough,^ 
 
 18. The telephone rang sharply, and it was his other 
 personality that answered. 
 
 19. " Oh, hello, old man ! Why, yes, I will. I've a 
 dinner and theatre — but I'll meet you afterwards. That's 
 a go, then. Matt's here ? Good — we'll show him about 
 a bit — five years, is it ? Well, so-long. I've got a busy 
 day." 
 
 20. The long room was filled with smoke, that toned 
 down its garish coloring — raw reds and yellows panelled 
 
 17. To what extent does this paragraph advance the story 
 toward its outcome? To what extent is it a forecast (S. S. M., 
 250) ? — ' A reminder of the two-part personality of each of the 
 two principals, out of which so much of the struggle springs; ef. 
 introd. note 2. — Observe the handling of the transition back to 
 the immediate plot-progress. 
 
 19. Note the motivation of the cabaret, and consequently of the 
 apartment, episode. Only a few words are needed. Unskillful 
 writers often spend wearisome effort in unnecessary motivating. 
 
 20. Here the second stage of the story becomes active, follow- 
 ing its introduction in pars. 18-19. Pars. 1-19, the first stage, 
 afford an excellent illustration of an expositional opening division
 
 The Opal Morning 519 
 
 with black and gold. At the far end, on a raised platform, 
 a band of musicians were giving voice to a hula-hula, 
 while a girl, with brown stained body and a Broadway 
 version of a grass skirt, swung lithe hips and agile fingers 
 to a haunting rhythm. The right-hand partition was set 
 with mirrors, a fountain splashed down four steps of il- 
 luminated glass and watered a basin,^ edged with artificial 
 roses. Against the walls tables were wedged, tables 
 crowded by typical all-night rounders, noisily enjoying 
 themselves. There were four men and three girls in Al- 
 lison's party — Bangs, Van Nard and Bill Matt. The 
 girls were performers — Irene and Helene, professional 
 dancers, and Vili Nadi, late of Budapest, and deriving 
 therefrom her pet name, " The little pest." Champagne 
 stood in their glasses ; champagne bottles arrogantly dis- 
 played on an adjoining empty table advertised that the 
 crowd were " no pikers." 
 
 21. Allison leaned back and watched the writhing hula 
 girl. It was half-past two in the morning, and he was 
 bored and tired. He was host, however, at this tag end 
 of a misspent evening, and Bill Matt had been five years 
 away from the big town and was in no mood to go home. 
 He was frankly having the time of his life, devouring the 
 diminutive Hungarian chanteuse with his eyes, and roar- 
 ing with laughter at the broken English of her sallies. 
 Bangs, between the two dancers, divided his somewhat 
 
 (S. S. M., 74-85). List all the important things accomplished by 
 the exposition up to par. 20. — ' Is the mention of the fountain 
 inconspicuous enough not to be a give-away (cf. par. 13)? — An 
 atmosphere strongly in contrast with that which we sense in the 
 first stage is presented. Did the opening stage strike the keynote 
 ( S. S. M., 127 : 10-11 ? Review also 124 : 5-9 ) . 
 21. Are sentences 1-2 consistent with Allison's character?
 
 520 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 befuddled attentions, while Van Nard found his fate in 
 his bubbling glass, 
 
 22. " Why don't you take up this Island stuff, 
 Helene?" Allison heard Bangs inquire in an injured 
 tone. " You could knock that girl silly, and she's the big 
 number." 
 
 23. Helene shrugged slim shoulders and glanced do\\Ti 
 at her costume — a daring combination of rose-wreaths and 
 tiger-skin. 
 
 24. " Don't care to," she answered laconically. 
 
 25. She lifted her glass to her lips and pretended to 
 drink. He noticed that her drinking was largely pretense. 
 Irene laughed. 
 
 26. " Helene's got her line and she sticks to it. Guess 
 she's right, at that. Isn't she known all over the shop as 
 ' Miss Three Weeks ' and ' The Girl in the Tiger-Skin ' ? 
 Some class to that — Avhat ? " 
 
 27. Van I^ard roused himself from the contemplation 
 of his wine. " That's a good stunt, Helene — that finale, 
 stripping out of your pelt and making a doormat of it — 
 must say, it gives me a start every time." 
 
 28. " That's why I do it," she observed calmly. " I 
 pull down enough coin for that skin stunt to keep me going 
 quite comfortably, thank you." 
 
 29. Irene nodded, not without envy. " She does that 
 
 22. Introduces the second principal. Does it direct attention to 
 her with sufficient emphasis'? Would anything be gained by 
 more emphatic indication of her part, or is it better at this point 
 to pass over her importance, lest we betray too soon her identity, 
 losing the effect of pars. 61-62? 
 
 25. Is this detail consistent or inconsistent with her character? 
 
 29-30. See also pars. 31-45. What are the limitations upon out- 
 rightness in realism in dialogue, description, and incident, in por-
 
 The Opal Morning 521 
 
 — and then what? Why, she fools 'em. There's no show 
 at all — nice little modest nighty just unrolls with it — 
 and all over." 
 
 30. " And not all off— hey ? " Matt laughed at his bril- 
 liant repartee. " But say — can't we go on ? I'm tired of 
 this. Can't you girls beat it? — and we'll try breakfast 
 up the road somewhere." 
 
 31. Van straightened in his chair with a jerk. " Why 
 didn't I think of it before ? " he exclaimed. " Helene, 
 have you still got that roulette-wheel in your apartment ? " 
 
 32. She nodded. 
 
 33. " Say, fellows," he continued, " let's go up to 
 Helene's and have a spin or two. She's got a nice place, 
 and her Jap can trim us some eggs. I'll set up the drinks. 
 Come on, what do you say ? " 
 
 34. The host started a feeble protest, but Matt's de- 
 lighted acceptance overruled him. Besides, he had a curi- 
 osity to see the end of the game — evidently a crooked one 
 — and Bill might need looking after. 
 
 35. " Oh, good ! " cried Irene, rising. " I'll go and 
 see the Boss — he'll be all right. We don't need to dance 
 again tonight. That'll be a lark, all right." She ran 
 
 trayiug' the vulgar or offensive? Is there a difference of hmit 
 when the thing is portrayed as a necessary element in a larger con- 
 ception or presentation of life, and when it is itself the purpose 
 of the portrayal? Is art ever hampered or thwarted by the 
 squeamishness that objects to realism in presenting such aspects 
 of life? Is reticence on such aspects wise, or is it imposed by 
 false standards of opinion, which thus hinder the interpretation 
 of life in certain of its common and vitally important charac- 
 teristics? What can writers and students do to create more 
 liberal and wholesome standards? 
 
 31-34. Cf. note on par. 19. 
 
 35-43. These paragraphs do not advance the action. Are they
 
 522 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 lightly (Idwii the room, and, eagerly as a child, button- 
 holed the tall saturnine proprietor. 
 
 36. " Roulette." The Pest spoke up with a great roll- 
 ing of eyes and R's. '" Excellent. I loof it. You shall 
 help me, you nice mans — be my — what you call — 
 Mashcote." 
 
 37. "Mash coat! Oh, Lord, oh Lord! you'll be the 
 death of me ! " Matt roared. " Sure, little one, I will be 
 your mascot." 
 
 38. "Ah," she cried delightedly. " ' Mascotte ! ' lake 
 zat — the same as French — Oh, verrce well ! " 
 
 39. Allison looked at Helene. She seemed neither glad 
 nor sorry, more as if she considered it a matter of busi- 
 ness. He liked her make-up, he decided ; it was intelli- 
 gent. She was heavily but smoothly powdered, her great 
 eyes, elongated in straight pencil lines, added something 
 enigmatic to her level gaze. Her mouth, with large, well- 
 formed lips, was darkly, almost blackly red, more sinister 
 than vampire scarlet and more secretly alluring. He won- 
 dered how old she might be. One could never tell with 
 these strange women. But however young, she was most 
 thoroughly experienced. 
 
 40. Irene came skipping and sliding with graceful 
 dancing steps over the polished floor. 
 
 41. " Come on, boys," she called. " It's all right. I 
 told William to scare us up a taxi at the corner." 
 
 42. Van rose. " I'll be with you in a minute. I'm 
 going to speak to Sweeney. How many quarts do we 
 
 to be classified as intensifying matter (S. S. M., 107-115) ? What 
 element predominates — character or atmosphere in amplifying 
 realistic detail? Would the total effect of the story be more or 
 less satisfying (conclusive) if these paragraphs were omitted?
 
 The Opal Morning 523 
 
 want — half a dozen ? That'll hold us for a while. Have 
 you got anything for breakfast, Helene, or shall I forage 
 in the ice-box here ? " 
 
 43. " Oh, Saku always has eggs and bacon and little 
 sausages," Helene answered indifferently. " It's a stand- 
 ing order, I'm ready if you are." 
 
 44. The party bundled uncomfortably into one cab, 
 were jolted and bounced down the sijde street, up the Great 
 White Way, now fast fading into grayness, and turned 
 west again in the upper Forties. 
 
 45. Allison cursed under his breath and called himself 
 a fool, not only for this stupid round of would-be gayety 
 but for having dismissed his own motor car. He was 
 cramped and uncomfortable. Irene, voluble and wriggling, 
 sat in his lap, clutching at his coat-collar whenever the 
 cab jolted unduly. Helene sat next him with the little 
 Hungarian on her knees. It was all sordid, old stuff. The 
 girls smelled of cheap perfume and scented face-powder. 
 The atmosphere reeked of the sour smell of wine, the acrid 
 odor of stale tobacco smoke — bah ! 
 
 46. Before a tall apartment-house the taxi came to a 
 stop. Stiffly they disentangled themselves and their 
 wraps, and were conveyed up in the elevator by a bleary- 
 eyed negro boy. Helene preceded them down a short cor- 
 
 45. Is Allison's feeling consistent or inconsistent with his 
 character as revealed in the expositional opening? Show how 
 such a reversal of his feeling without a different outcome (so 
 far as he is concerned) would be made necessary. Cf. S. S. M., 
 91: 13, 102: 22, for sidelights. See introd. n. 2, parenthesis. 
 
 46. Explain why Helene's room " fights with itself," having 
 things that represent opposed tastes and ideals. Is this a means 
 by which the author reminds us again of the basic spiritual 
 struggle (introd. n. 2) ?
 
 524 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ridor, opened a door with her latch-key, and turned on the 
 switch. A step or two to a portiere and she ushered her 
 guests into a living-room. A long table was piled with 
 books, a center lamp of Chinese bronze, deep-seated com- 
 fortable chairs, flowers everywhere. On the walls a few 
 framed photographs of musical celebrities, mostly signed ; 
 several studies by well-known artists; a framed caricature 
 by Caran d' Arche ; Steinlen's Pierrot poster. These were 
 the dissonant notes. A conventional cosy corner with red 
 lights, cushions, and tabourette, bearing cigarettes ; red- 
 plush curtains; a cellarette; a dog basket, at present un- 
 tenanted ; a divan ; a decorated tea-wagon, loaded with an 
 ample cocktail set. These things were more in keeping 
 with the place and the hostess. 
 
 47. Van, with an air of boastful ownership, set out the 
 champagne bottles and called for Saku in a bellowing roar. 
 The girls made themselves comfortable, while Helene, 
 from the bottom of the cabinet, took out the roulette-wheel 
 and the long, green painted cloth that marked the num4 
 bers. She cleared the table and set the layout. Her face 
 remained expressionless, her welcome a mere matter of 
 business as stereotyped as her smile. A white-clad Japa; 
 nese appeared presently, noted the number of the guests; 
 nodded approval, and, without asking or receiving instruc- 
 tions, retired to the kitchenette. Evidently such break- 
 fast parties were the regular order of things. 
 
 48. The company gathered quickly about the wheel. 
 Van poured the champagne and joined the others, his face 
 paling a little and his eyes narrowing. The click of the 
 ball always had the effect of a pull at his heart, a tensing 
 
 48-51. Cf. n., pars. 35-43.
 
 The Opal Morning 525 
 
 of his gambler's nerves. Bangs hauled out his available 
 change and rumpled a roll of bills. 
 
 49. The girls ostentatiously jingled gilt mesh-purses 
 and talked in strained, high voices as they drew up chairs 
 and performed various rites '' for luck." Helene joined 
 them ; lost, won again, excused herself and rose. Van 
 would bank. 
 
 50. In spite of his weariness and disgust Allison 
 watched her. She intrigued him. What was she? Was 
 the game crooked ? Was she herself as remote as she 
 seemed ? Was she somebody's tool, or somebody's victim ? 
 Was the game her own venture, or was Sweeney back of 
 it ? Where did Van come in ? He took a hand, and pres- 
 ently the fascination of the game of chance seized his at- 
 tention. 
 
 51. The clean-up was certainly in favor of the house 
 with a vengeance. Back of them Helene hovered. In the 
 dining-room the noise of dishes and silver indicated the 
 activities of Saku. More champagne. The ball clicked 
 faster. Somewhere a clock rang four. Helene had dis- 
 posed herself on the divan in the embrasure of the win- 
 dow, saying nothing, seemingly oblivious of the others." ^ 
 
 52. Allison rose and stretched. " I've got enough," he 
 said. " When's that Jap going to announce tiffin ? " 
 
 53. " Half-past four, I told him," Helene answered. 
 
 54. He looked at her. She certainly was handsome — 
 more than that — there was latent power in her, in her face, 
 
 50. Observe the manner of its introduction, and its effect in 
 keeping our attention on Helene. 
 
 51. * A touch that reminds us of the lonesomeness her letters 
 disclosed. The next few paragraphs prepare the way for the 
 climactic height and telescoped outcome and ending. 
 
 54. Cf. n., pars. 29-30, 35-43, 48-51.
 
 526 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 in her relaxed figure, in the even, low-pitched quality of 
 her indifferent voice. Allison looked from her to the 
 others at the table. " The little pest " was lolling over 
 Bangs and rumpling his hair with her beringed hands. 
 Irene had degenerated to the gutter from which she had 
 risen on her winged feet. Allison was not proud of his 
 own friends. It w'as an ugly sight, these men and women, 
 seeking excitement. He felt in his pocket for his cigarette- 
 case, and found it empty. 
 
 55. " Over there." Helene pointed to the tabourette. 
 " No, wait. I've got some I think you might like better 
 — if you care for Cubans. In the red painted box on the 
 writing-desk." 
 
 56. Allison nodded, crossed the room and jerked the 
 cord on a jeweled desk light, that brought into sharp 
 prominence every feature of the gaudy, gilt escritoire. 
 Then he stood still, his hands suspended above the gayly 
 painted Dutch cofferette. His eyes, wide with surprise, 
 
 56. Third and last movement begins. Note that movement, or 
 act, two has two scenes, or stage-sets, the cabaret and the apart- 
 ment. Act three has the same set as scene two of movement two. 
 Further exempHfying the dramatic structure of this and of the 
 typical short story, note the exit carefully prepared for the minor 
 persons ; so that the acme of the " big scene " is played by the 
 two principals alone on the stage. S. S. M., 71 : 1, and 71-121 
 passim. 
 
 56-61. Account for the nervousness and fencing of the two at 
 this point. How is it indicated? Is the fact true to psychology? 
 To their respective characters and the situation which has now 
 been developed by the working out of the basic conception? — 
 Does the tensening of interest and the speeding up of the action 
 represent good dramatic management ? Why should the " big 
 scene " take less time, or be compressed into shorter space, than 
 the other stages of the story?
 
 The Opal Mokning 527 
 
 were fixed upon a portrait of Forrest Allyne in a silver 
 frame — Forrest Allyne in this cabaret dancer's flat ! 
 Could she, " The Girl of the Tiger-Skin "— '' Miss Three 
 Weeks " — have read " I, Too, Have Been in Arcady ? " 
 Did she know those songs of simple things — those frail 
 imaginings? or had she been attracted by some twist of 
 natural animalism to the face of that passionate youth ? 
 
 57. " Ah ! " he said aloud. " Good-looking chap. 
 Who's your friend, Helene ? " He picked up the picture. 
 
 58. " That ? " Her voice crossed the hubbub of the 
 room as if traveling in an element of its own, not loud, but 
 curiously distinct. " That's a boy I used to know. He's 
 taken to writing lately ; sent me a volume of his stuff the 
 other day — sort of Kid flirtation, you know." 
 
 59. Allison chuckled. " Not your style, I should say. 
 Shouldn't think you'd take much stock in him. Have you 
 read his book ? " 
 
 60. She rose from the divan nervously and joined him. 
 With swift fingers, as if she resented his possessive grip, 
 she took the picture from his hand. A fiush showed 
 faintly under her whitened skin. 
 
 61. " Oh, yes, I glanced at it. It isn't the sort of thing 
 that would interest you at all. You'd guy it. Where are 
 those cigarettes? Box is empty? That's Saku, he loves 
 'em ; I can't keep one. Just the same I've got a lot hidden 
 I bet he didn't find." She unlocked the escritoire, and, 
 pulling out a drawer, rummaged in its secret recesses. 
 Over her white shoulder he had a glimpse of the tumbled 
 interior of the desk — its pens and inks, its rumpled bills, 
 pink note bond, a bunch of rose-colored gauze samples, and 
 spread out, as if the letter bad been hastily left uncom- 
 pleted, a double page of cheap writing-paper, half covered
 
 528 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 with the ill-formed, individual handwriting he knew so 
 well. 
 
 62. " Good God ! " he gasped. " You're not ' Me/ are 
 you ? " 
 
 63. Her body whipped itself erect and she stood star- 
 ing at him open-mouthed, her black-red lips drawn above 
 her glittering teeth. 
 
 64. " What do you mean ? " she demanded. Her hand 
 fell with a quick protective gesture on the unfinished letter. 
 
 65. He laughed harshly. "Lord! what a joke! You 
 — you the girl ' marooned in a lot of scenery ' ! You the 
 girl who has her letters delivered with the milk-cans. ISTo 
 
 62. The plot of this eonte has some of the elements of the 
 ingenious-plot and the surprise story, since it requires hidden 
 identity. (Comparatively few plots of hidden identity introduce 
 two persons whose identity is concealed; one unrecognized person 
 usually provides the author a sufficiently difficult task. But " The 
 Opal Morning" has two.) The moment when the true identity is 
 disclosed (S. S. M., 89, n. 7) is always one of " thrill." So it is 
 here. Where is the second revelation made? 
 
 65-91. Anticipatory delay (S. S. M., 74, n. 2, 93 :4). (Note 
 that par. 62, although not strictly bringing the decisive moment, 
 clearly indicates its approach; hence the bickerings that follow, 
 delaying the outcome, are fairly to be classified as anticipatory 
 delay.) 
 
 What keeps these pot-and-kettle recriminations from falling 
 quite as low as mere bandied contempt and insult — a vulgar 
 quarrel of cabaret habitues of the "sporting" class? Have we 
 here the culmination and crisis of the spiritual struggle (introd. 
 n. 2) Is the motive, or cause, of the recriminations anything \ 
 more than vulgar anger and pride? » 
 
 Obsei've again that, being in part a surprise (concealed iden- 
 tity) story, this eonte postpones an essential part of the exposi- 
 tion — the identities and an essential fact of motive — for disclo- 
 sure near its end.
 
 The Opal Morning 529 
 
 wonder you're an authority on dawns! Lord! What a 
 farce ! " 
 
 66. " Stop laughing ! " she flamed. " Stop it, I say ! 
 I won't be laughed at, and it isn't a laughing matter. So 
 he's a ead, too — like all the rest ! Had to show around the 
 little country girl's letters, did he ? " Her hand was shak- 
 ing as she crumpled the sheet and threw it into the scrap 
 basket. " Well, you can go back and tell him just what 
 kind of a little backwoods ingenue wrote 'em — for the fun 
 of the thing — to make a jackass of a poet have the big 
 head — just to make the man with that silly woman-face 
 think he'd been writing something real with his twaddle ! " 
 
 67. Allison hardly listened to her. Something deep 
 within him was angrily resenting this changeling of his 
 dreams. He was suddenly furious with this painted 
 dancer for her impersonation of that other — as if some- 
 how she had wronged a real and living entity. His re- 
 sentment burst into being. 
 
 68. " Gad! " he explained. " It makes me sick ! What 
 the deuce did you want to go to all that elaborate trouble 
 for? What's the sense? And that snapshot — a lot like 
 you — gingham and pinafores and lilacs and sunbonnets, 
 hey ? Of all the stupid " 
 
 69. " So he showed you that, too, did he ? " she inter- 
 rupted. " Sweet proposition, he is. That was a snapshot 
 of Lillie Ling — a movie girl — I happened to know — she 
 looks the rube part all right, and — well, you can tell him 
 to come and see me dance the tiger dance. That'll give 
 him something new in ginghams. Then he can tell the 
 story on himself if he wants to." 
 
 70. " Oh, he's seen you dance and he doesn't care to 
 repeat the story, believe me."
 
 530 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 71. "Oh, he has, has he?" Her eyes blazed. 
 
 72. " Yes, he has. If you want to know, I wrote 
 ' I, Too, Have Been in Arcady.' I'm your childhood's 
 friend." 
 
 73. She stepped away from him three slow steps. Her 
 gaze traveled from the face of the youth in the portrait 
 to Allison's living presence. 
 
 74. " You" she whispered. " You wrote Arcady — you 
 wrote ' The Opal Morning ' ? No, you didn't. You're 
 lying — you — you bally rounder — you — you — the Bright- 
 light pet ! " 
 
 75. " Well," he sneered, " what about it ? You, my 
 precious little country girl — we're quits." 
 
 76. " But you couldn't ! " There was a sob in her 
 voice. " You couldn't write ' The Slipped Tether ' — ^ The 
 Steed With Wings ' ! " She snatched the framed picture 
 and held it to her breast with an unconsciously dramatic 
 gesture. 
 
 77. " Oh, yes, I did." His anger was dying down in 
 a curious new curiosity and wonder. " And ' Pan's Hoof- 
 prints,' and ' The Little Masque.' You see, I remember 
 your favorites." 
 
 78. She turned on him with sudden low-voiced fury. 
 " And you ! You dared to write like that — to make me 
 feel like that ! Isn't there any truth in the world — is 
 everything that looks beautiful just a sham and a cheat! 
 I — I worshiped those things. They took me out of myself 
 — they made me think I was the girl who wrote you — 
 and now — bah ! " She threw the portrait atop of the let- 
 ter in the trash basket. There were tears on her lashes. 
 
 77. Another fragment of the decisive moment, as he begins to 
 comprehend the truth about her.
 
 The Opal Morning 531 
 
 79. " Bleakfast," Saku announced. 
 
 80. A sudden pushing back of chairs, yawns, and gig- 
 gles as the party broke up, and, led by Van, made their 
 way to the dining-room. 
 
 81. " Cooming — no ? " the little Hungarian called, as 
 she hung possessively to Matt's arm. 
 
 82. " In a minute," Helene answered. " Go ahead, 
 don't wait for me " — her voice broke on the last word, and 
 she feigned to cough, as she waved a gesture of angry dis- 
 missal to her companion. 
 
 83. But Allison did not move. " If you care so much 
 for that sort of thing — the Arcady — why this? '^ His 
 spread palm indicated the gaming table — its oilcloth sur- 
 face smeared with spilt champagne, the chips piled in 
 uncounted heaps. 
 
 84. " Well," she answered, her head thrown back, her 
 eyes defiant. " If you care so much for Arcady, why 
 this?" Her gesture of loathing included him from top 
 to toe and seemed to background him with all the reek 
 and vice he had sneered at. 
 
 85. " But I don't understand." 
 
 86. " ISTeither do I." She came back fiercely. "" You 
 don't have to do this sort of thing." 
 
 87. " Do you ? " he demanded. 
 
 88. " I've got to live," she blazed. 
 
 89. " But not like this." 
 
 90. " How do you know ? I've got to make money — 
 so I can go back." 
 
 91. " To the farm, hey? " His own voice was bitter. 
 
 92. " No — back to Paris — back to work." 
 
 93. " Ah — work." His tone was an insult, and her 
 cheeks crimsoned.
 
 532 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 94. " Yes, icorJi-. Why am I dancing ? Because I 
 won't strain my voice — singing in the slums, the only 
 openings I could get over here. And I've got a voice, and 
 I'm going to make good, sec if I don't. I had a little 
 money when I came of age, but it's all used up, and the 
 war broke out or I'd have managed somehow there — in 
 Paris. I had to come back — but I'm not beaten. Do you 
 think I want this — do you think I want to be with people 
 like that ? " She jerked her head toward the dining-room, 
 whence came sounds of maudlin talk and inane giggling. 
 " Do you think I want such men as you around me ? Well, 
 I don't. You rub me raw, all of you — all of you ! " 
 
 95. The words of her letter flashed in his brain : " Do 
 you have to be with people you dislike all the time ? " 
 ..." My soul is sand-papered raw." ..." There's 
 a cascade, a rockery here — a horrid, stilted, man-made 
 thing." He remembered the glass grotto of the restaurant, 
 with its illumined step. . . . " I hate its pour, pour, 
 pour." 
 
 96. He looked at her, all his resentment gone. Why, 
 the girl had written her heart and soul in those letters to 
 a stranger. They were the truth, the naked truth. He 
 realized that he alone of all who surrounded her knew her. 
 To him blindly she had shown herself. " Me " was real. 
 She was " Me," and with that sudden understanding came 
 disgust with himself. Yes, he was a pretty poor substi- 
 tute for Allyne. Allyne was the better half of himself. 
 
 94. The discovery of her motive; further revelation of her 
 better nature. 
 
 96. The decisive moment completed. The argument that fol- 
 lows is merely further anticipatory delay. But see par. 105 for 
 the detail that decides her.
 
 The Opal Morning 533 
 
 He, the man of the world, was after all, a pretty low-down 
 animal. A great wave of pity swept over him. He was 
 resolved, suddenly and impetuously resolved to let " Me " 
 divorce Helene, and return to herself and her possi- 
 bilities. 
 
 97. " Listen here," he said sharply. " I believe you 
 wrote your real self in those letters. I believe you do 
 want to get out. I believe it's your right to get out. If 
 I set up the money, and it won't hurt me — I've got a lot 
 of it — will you clear out of this whole thing? Will you 
 go back, and work — will you ? " 
 
 98. She quivered with indignation from head to foot. 
 If eyes could kill he would have been smitten dead. 
 
 99. " How dare you, how dare you ! " she stam- 
 mered. 
 
 100. He looked at her gravely. " Why, of course, I 
 dare. I mean it. I'm just fool enough to have faith in 
 the ' Me ' I know in those letters." 
 
 101. " You — you — or your kind — give something for 
 nothing, just to help — a — a cabaret dancer — not much! " 
 She laughed, and her laughter was poisonous in its weary 
 hate. 
 
 102. " I don't blame you," he said gently. " But, look 
 here. I know something of the real you, you see, and / 
 wrote the Arcady. That, too, is myself. Nobody except 
 my publishers and the artist who drew the picture of what 
 I'd like to look like know that I, Forbes Allison, am For- 
 rest Allyne. Listen to me. I don't ask you to accept any- 
 thing from Allison. I wouldn't ask you — but — you know 
 what this life is. You know what you want to be. Here 
 is the way out — take it ! Not from me, but from the man 
 who was once in Arcady, from that other one who wrote
 
 534 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 of real dawns. You needn't be afraid, and you couldn't 
 resent it from him." 
 
 103. She crossed her arms about her body as if to hold 
 herself together. Her teeth were chattering; her brows 
 contracted as if in unendurable pain. He put his hand 
 on her naked shoulder, and his touch had all the gentle- 
 ness of a ministering saint. Even her resentful flesh did 
 not wince. 
 
 104. " Little sister — because — I know the real you, be- 
 cause you know the other one in me — let me — open the 
 door of freedom for you — let me " 
 
 105. There was a cry, a crash of plates, a burst of 
 riotous laughter and confused exclamations. 
 
 106. " Ah God ! " She quivered and turned to him, 
 sick with disgust. She was silent a moment, the lovely 
 lids closing over her tired eyes. Then she straightened and 
 looked at him. " Thank you," she said simply. " ' You ' 
 — you may help ' Me.' " 
 
 107. His face relaxed, his eyes darkened and softened 
 till for a moment the shadow and semblance of the 
 mythical portrait seemed to dwell upon his different face. 
 
 108. " Thank you, ' Me,' " he said softly, and, cross- 
 ing to the window, drew back the curtains and raised the 
 shade. 
 
 109. The sky above the house-tops rushed to meet them, 
 
 106-110. Note particularly the closing sentence of 106, in whicB 
 she lifts him with her to the higher level that he is making possible 
 to her. Study the wording to discover how it implies his reclama- 
 tion as well as hers; and, incidentally, how it suggests the love 
 element mentioned in introd. n. 3. The rest merely expresses witB 
 heightened emotion the atmosphere of their spiritual triumph. 
 Study here, too, however, the means employed to effect this 
 expression.
 
 The Opal Morning 535 
 
 streaming lights of pink and silver against the greenish 
 heavens, purple shadows back of chimney-pots that had 
 turned to cornelian and coral, flecks of gold and drifts 
 of milky blue. 
 
 110. "'Me,'" he said softly. " Look— the opal 
 morning ! "
 
 THE GREAT GOD 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. " The Great God " almost sets aside conventional 
 categories in its demand to be classified, not among theme . 
 stories, but as an interpretation of life (S. S. M., 1:1-6; 
 6: 15-16; 34:20; 256-257). This is not because it defi- 
 nitely sets itself up as a purpose-story (S. S. M., 27 : 4-8) ; 
 but because of the skill and artistry with which it in- 
 tegrates its theme and purpose through concrete persons 
 and a history in concrete episodes of a love and a typical 
 character-change (S. S. M., 7: 3-9). It rises far superior 
 to the baldness and dry argument of the merely didactic 
 story (S. S. M., 26: 1-3). Though interpretation of life 
 will be found in softie degree in all the stories reprinted 
 in this book (S. S. M., 5:21-22), yet some of them 
 concern merely fraginents of life, or aspects of life in 
 curious or restricted manifestations, or life manifesting 
 itself as affected by particular, possibly even peculiar and 
 remote, motive and points of view in the persons pre- 
 sented. But others are close to " The Great God " in af- 
 fording an impressive interpretation of existence from 
 some fundamental principle, or as found in widely-rec- 
 ognized manifestations. Such are (in the probable order 
 merely of their interpretive scope and effectiveness) " An 
 Epilogue," " The Last Rose of Summer," and " The Opal 
 Morning." About these, especially the last-named, judg- 
 ments may differ when they are compared with some of 
 the other stories; but decision will depend largely on the 
 
 536
 
 The Great God 537 
 
 answer to one question : Does the choice made of per- 
 sons, incidents, situation, setting — of the concrete forms 
 through which the interpretation is conveyed — restrict the 
 universality of the representation; is the story conceived 
 in forms that create an impression of wide-encircling sig- 
 nificance (for example, is " Miss Mitty " or " Tropics " 
 or " The Love of Men " as extensively representative of 
 the life of mankind as is " The Rag-Time Lady," " In the 
 Matter of Distance," or " The Opal Morning ") ? 
 
 2. The story is notable, not only for making an inter- 
 pretation of life, but for making the interpretation of life 
 by means of an interpretation of the spirit and point of 
 view of art; see par. 5, n. (Incidentally, this method is 
 helpfully illustrative of the matters discussed in S. S. M., 
 194:9-13; 212:5-7; 246:9— how the author can convey 
 his criticism of life without injecting in any way the dis- 
 turbing element of his own individuality.) Cf. " The De- 
 fective," " The Rag-Time Lady," " The Song," et al.) 
 
 3. Character-creation (S. S. M., 214-228) is accom- 
 plished with much skill in Isadore, who is conceived as the 
 representative of the artistic spirit and point of view (see 
 par. 5, n., and introd. n. 2), is adequately individualized, 
 is shown acting as becomes his character, and is made to 
 speak in thorough keeping with his part (S. S. M., 234: 
 10-13; 241:1; and more broadly 234-246 inclusive). 
 This last fact provides opportunity also for study of dia- 
 logue adaptation. 
 
 4. Isadore, though he is the person more prominently 
 before us, may not unfairly be regarded as the person of 
 second importance in the creation of the total impression. 
 The central person is Suzanne, since it is in her that the 
 character-transformation occurs on which the establish-
 
 538 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ment of the thcmc-vicw and the unified effect depends. 
 Isadore is merely the person through whom we are brought 
 to realize the significance of the events in, and the out- 
 come of, the supporting plot action employed in establish- 
 ing the theme. (On the choice of Isadore as the narrator 
 of the plot events, see S. S. M., 138 : 3-4, and the note on 
 par. 5 of " The Great God.") 
 
 5. A certain resemblance in structure may be noted be- 
 tween this story and " Nerve." Each depends largely 
 upon concentrative materials. Each requires a consider- 
 able preparation for the taking up of the plotted part of 
 the narrative. In each, the plot-action is embodied in a 
 narrative recounted by an actor in the events, but the 
 opening is presented by an outsider. In each, the theme 
 is made clear and much of the motivation accomplished 
 outside of the part that, strictly speaking, develops the 
 action of the plot itself, and in each this motivation lies 
 almost entirely in character. In " Nerve," the action re- 
 quired by the plot (strictly so called, in distinction from 
 the broader term " structure ") is all included in a two- 
 part incident, that of the quarrel at the gaming-table and 
 the following assertion of his manhood by " the kid." In 
 " The Great God," the action required by the plot (like- 
 wise strictly so called) may be regarded as likewise con- 
 sisting of two incidents — the loving and parting of Isa- 
 dore and Suzanne, and their meeting ten years later — the 
 difference lying mainly in the fact that what we are term- 
 ing incidents in " The Great God " consume much more 
 time than do the incidents in " Nerve," and that the in- 
 terval between is ten years in the former and two hours 
 or so in the latter. Disregarding this difference in the 
 length of the incidental periods in the two stories, we find
 
 The Geeat God 539 
 
 their structure closely parallel in tbis respect as well as 
 in those already cited. On the other hand, we find that 
 " Nerve " introduces most of its contributory and concen- 
 trative detail before taking up the truly actional stage of 
 the narrative, whereas " The Great God " includes much 
 of this contributory and concentrative material within the 
 actional stage. (As throwing light on the theory of nar- 
 ration in composition, note how including such detail 
 within the actional stage helps to create the illusion of the 
 lapse of time; note for example the effect of pars. 49-52 
 in creating the sense of a lapse of time between what pre- 
 cedes and what follows.) 
 
 6. Though built primarily upon a theme, " The Great 
 God " might with accuracy be classified as an atmosphere- 
 story (because of its intense subjective coloring — S. S. M., 
 54-70) or as a character-story (because of the character- 
 change in Suzanne on which it depends and the strength 
 and definiteness of character present in Isadore — S. S. M., 
 43-54). On such classifications, see S. S. M., 54: 1, and 
 cf. the various other specimens of theme-story in this 
 volume.
 
 THE GREAT GOD 
 
 By Mary Heaton Vorse 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Editors and the Author from 
 
 " VVoman's Home Companion," March, 1917. 
 
 (Copyright, 1917) 
 
 1. Everyone knows that Isadore Rossenoff will never 
 play in society. His attitude toward his audiences is so 
 much a matter of comment that even the paragraph writers 
 and cartoonists have commented on the way he bows to it. 
 He cannot help bowing gracefully, because he has that 
 supreme beauty so rare among civilized men, a great 
 beauty of movement, as if his quality of a great artist 
 translated itself into each act of his, whether it be the 
 drawing of his bow across his violin, or walking across the 
 street, or bowing to his audience. But he bows like a 
 somnambulist, his melancholy and brooding eyes looking 
 into space as though fixed on some vision of the spirit. He 
 acknowledges the applause of his audience as from a great 
 body of people. He does not recognize the individuals who 
 compose it. He does not know how this piques women, 
 and how his apparent disdain has contributed to his success. 
 
 2. A lesser circle, but a very wide one, still knows 
 another peculiarity of his. Unlike many instrumental 
 
 1. A non-sensational beginning that catches interest — (pecul- 
 iarity in a well-known personage). 
 
 2. Interest ("suspense") increased by cumulation — added 
 peculiarity, attracting more wondering attention because it is less 
 known (is a touch of the unexplained). 
 
 540
 
 The Great God 541 
 
 virtuosi, Isadore has a passion for the opera. He sits three 
 rows back in one of the highest galleries, and the reason 
 for this I am one of the few who know. 
 
 3. Isadore himself told it to me, sitting with the light 
 of my fire playing on his puissant, ugly, Slavic face, 
 which is so at variance with the soft Oriental eyes, for, 
 like many Eussian Jews he has the qualities of the land 
 of his birth rather than of his race. 
 
 4. Now, as Isadore plays as freely as the wind blows 
 for his own friends, this great musician will bring around 
 his violin and play for me half an afternoon at a time. 
 Like the rest of the world, I had thought his peculiarity 
 a caprice, and once, for what I thought was a good reason, 
 I ventured to beg that he would break through his rule. 
 Often good reasons produce intrusions, 
 
 5. " Listen," said Isadore, " neither for you nor for 
 anyone whom I love would I torment myself as I must 
 to do what you ask. When you hear why, very likely you 
 will call me morbid ; but an artist is supposed to have a 
 right to his vagaries, and I will not go into any company 
 where I see about me these terrible, well-cared-for, well- 
 groomed women, each one of whom brings to my mind the 
 defeat of the most bright and adorable spirit that I have 
 ever known. 
 
 3. Attention continued by promise of the explanation. Note 
 the item of race-characterization. 
 
 4. Character-hint (S. S. M., 257). Plausible and convmcing 
 introduction of the main narrative told in the words of the one 
 person competent to give it its full emotional as well as intellectual 
 significance — one of the two leading actors in it. 
 
 5. Forecast of the character-change that constitutes the impres- 
 sive aspect of the outcome. — Choice of an artist, " supposed to 
 have. ... his vagaries," as the person from whose point of 
 view the events shall be presented, is well made; all the attacks
 
 542 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 6. " Do yoii know what to me is the most terrible sight 
 in all Xew York ? Worse than the pitiable procession of 
 little girls np Broadway? It is the women in the foyer 
 of the opera. "When I look at them it is with pity and 
 with dismay, and finally with terror. How can there be 
 so many women, I ask myself, who look so inhuman? 
 Oh, the splendor of their perfection, how terrible it is. 
 
 of vocationalism, industrialism, materialistic science, all the 
 powers of darkness in all their aspects, leave our artists still in 
 the place of final leadership. Ultimately they are our seers, 
 prophets, and teachers — the only ones on whom we can depend to 
 teach us the hate of evil and injustice, the love of liberty, devotion 
 to truth and beauty — always the ones to whom we turn when we 
 are driven back to seek for mankind a guiding vision and abid- 
 ing revelation. Only through their art is the truth and beauty 
 of spirit preserved from the ignorance and hostility of our hordes 
 of the great and the small. Art is therefore the interpreter and 
 the judge of the world's work and thought; and the artist is its 
 mouthpiece and herald. Hence from no human lips so authori- 
 tative as those of the artist, and from no human standards so 
 high and broad and deep as his, could be pronounced a judg- 
 ment upon man and society such as this story is meant to pro- 
 nounce. The choice of an artist to represent the point of view 
 of this judgment is therefore not to be called able; it was almost 
 inescapable. (The interpretation of the artistic spirit and ideal 
 embodied in " The Great God " is itself so true and inspiring as 
 to leave no doubt of the author's right to claim kinship in spirit 
 with the true artists. What other stories in this volume betray 
 either in fundamental concept or in occasional passages this 
 artistic outlook upon life? Does "The Cat and the Fiddle" do 
 so? "A Rag-Time Lady?" "The Opal Morning?" "The 
 Last Rose of Summer?" "The Song?" "What the Vandals 
 Leave?" On revelation of the author's view-point, see S. S. M., 
 189:1-3; 194:9-13; on fundamental sincerity, S. S. M., 178:2-3; 
 199:14-15.) 
 
 6. Here and throughout, study the manner of speech into which 
 Isadore's narrative is individualized (individualizing of dialogue, 
 S. S. M., 236: 13). Study also the manner in which the phrasing
 
 The Great God 543 
 
 One after another, one after another, I see them : early 
 middle-age and middle-age, calm and magnificent, their 
 too-abundant flesh carefully corseted, their arms and 
 bosoms shining, every detail of them speaking how they 
 live in the realm of the body, and how much thought and 
 time it has taken to give them that special aspect of per- 
 fection. One knows how they live, how sheltered are they 
 from every uncomfortable physical sensation. They 
 shrink from discomfort more shudderingly than a braver 
 race shrinks from pain. 
 
 7. " But what is more terrible to me than these women 
 are the little girls who accompany them. You see them 
 with flower faces, straight as beautiful young trees, and 
 you know the fate that almost inevitably awaits them. It 
 is to have the inner flaming spirit entombed by the ease 
 of life, by the habit of luxury, until at thirty-five or forty 
 they, too, will be bound hand and foot to the comfort of 
 living, to the appointments of their houses, to the things 
 they eat, drink, and wear. 
 
 is made to emphasize impression, and especially the choice of 
 descriptive and qualifying adjectives. In the individual words 
 and the phrasing of them lies much of the tone-impression (as 
 well as of the character-indication) of this story (S. S. M., 
 236: 6). Part of the effectiveness achieved through style-manage- 
 ment comes from the coupling together of ideals that are not 
 usually associated ("Terrible, well-cared for. . . . women"), 
 or that strongly contrast with each other ("flaming spirit 
 entombed "). 
 
 7. Theme brought forward. — Note the contrasts present through- 
 out the story; as in par. 6 set off against par. 7. The outcome 
 that concretely embodies the theme proposition is itself a char- 
 acter-change in which the ultimate character is in utter contrast 
 with its earlier self; that is, the theme-effect of the story is 
 dependent on the successful presentation of a basic character 
 contrast.
 
 544 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 8. " No real joy of the body, no more true gayety, no 
 flaming and sudden wrong-doing, even, is possible to them. 
 And an assembly of this kind shows me how narrow is the 
 needle's eye and how few of the rich escape this withering 
 of the spirit that once I saw happen to the soul most dear 
 to me, to the one who meant to me the vision of life, and 
 who was bound up with all my highest dreams, and whom 
 I saw make a sacrifice of her whole life as gay-heartedly, 
 and beautifully, and naturally as a rose blooms, so high 
 was her gallantry. 
 
 9. " There was only one force in the world that could 
 have destroyed the beauty of her. It has destroyed na- 
 tions; but I do not like to see it at work. 
 
 10. " When I was younger I used to play at drawing- 
 rooms as you wanted me to do. I had been making a bit 
 of a success. I was just beginning to be known a little 
 and, through a kind word said for me by Sarasarte, I was 
 
 8-9. Effect of coherence and plausibility is gained because this 
 feeling of Isadore, which is one of the motivating elements, also 
 explains to the satisfaction of our curiosity the question raised by 
 par. 2. (Note that, though it removes the stimulus to interest 
 provided by par. 2, it substitutes in us, in place of curiosity, a 
 more personal interest in the man). — Pars. 1-9 provide initial 
 characterization of the narrator, a leading personage in the events 
 he recounts; indicate the contrast involved in the theme, and the 
 outcome of the struggle of forces on which the theme is based; 
 strikes the keynote of narrative and of spiritual tone and mood; 
 and pass over without a jar into the narrative of the plot-events 
 themselves. 
 
 10. From here forward the story consists of the narrative of 
 direct plot action. The sequence is strictly chronological. The 
 structure may be thus indicated: (1) Generating circumstance 
 (meeting of the lovers), with characterization of both, but espe- 
 cially of the girl, who is the chief figure. (2) Rising action: 
 growth of their love. (3) Rising action: complication and first 
 episode of struggle and crisis in Isadore's resolution to abandon
 
 
 I 
 
 The Great God 545 
 
 invited to play at a fashionable house. When I got through 
 I stood there smoldering and sulky, looking at these young 
 people, these beautiful women with all expression ironed 
 out of their faces. The luxury of the company revolted 
 me; so did the appointments of the house; so did all the 
 display of wealth, from the supper even to the sum they 
 paid me for playing. I thought how each of the notes I 
 had played had been bought by my own self-denial and 
 that of my family, and with what toil my mother had 
 given her life that I might make myself ready to amuse 
 these idle people who did not even understand what I was 
 playing, but who liked to have their senses tickled by 
 music. 
 
 11. " My hostess took my resentment for shyness, and 
 very kindly led me over and introduced me to a girl, oh, 
 
 Suzanne. (4) Rising action : second episode (in form a climactic 
 incident) of struggle and crisis, balancing the first; their love d"e- 
 clared. (5) Rising action: approach to decisive moment; main 
 climax of the action in the decisive moment (Suzanne's renuncia- 
 tion, followed by her marriage to the rich man). The divisions 
 named above may be regarded as the first grand division of Isa- 
 dore's narrative. Co-ordinate with this in its importance to the 
 total impi'ession is the shorter but indispensable division (6) that 
 follows : the spiritual result consequent on the outcome of the 
 action, i.e., upon Suzanne's marriage to wealth (observe the sig- 
 nificance here of par. 59). This last division completes the impres- 
 sion for which the story as a whole was written, because it pre- 
 sents to us the contrast of Suzanne-as-she-had-become with 
 Suzanne-as-she-was. It is therefore the stage of greatest effect, in 
 both Isadore's narrative and the story as a whole ( S. S. M., 
 92:1; 93:4). 
 
 11. Observe here and throughout the simplicity and yet the 
 intensity of the description — a fact thoroughly consistent with the 
 conception of narrative in the mouth of an artist; art is always 
 simple yet, in pi'oportion to its theme, intense. Note likewise 
 the indication of the artistic point of view, the understanding,
 
 546 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 a beautiful girl, very young, untouched and unstained by 
 anything sordid. She was still throbbing with the music 
 I had played, for when I met her she turned from white 
 to flame and white again, and opened her mouth to speak 
 and forgot what she was going to say and left it opened, 
 like a shy child. It was like seeing one of the shimmering, 
 quivering things that I play standing before me, made 
 flesh, and, because I was an impudent Jewish boy and self- 
 possessed for all my sulky ways, I smiled and said to her : 
 
 12. " ' Don't look at me like that, for I'm more afraid 
 of you than you of me, and with more cause ! ' 
 
 13. " At that her color flamed back again. 
 
 14. " ' And why should you be afraid of me ? ' she 
 asked. 
 
 15. " ' Because this is my first party,' said I, in my 
 most serious way, ' and I have met very few young ladies 
 in my life.' 
 
 16. " ' Then we are equal ! ' she said, as she clapped 
 her hands together, ' for this is my first party, too, in New 
 York, and you are the very first musician whom I have 
 met at all ! ' 
 
 lY. " ' And how do you like your first party ? ' I asked 
 her. 
 
 18. " ' It's divine ! ' 
 
 19. " Do you remember when young girls called every- 
 thing ' divine ' ? " 
 
 disciplined yet irrepressible feeling, that artists experience toward 
 life and the world (e.g., the closing sentence). Such interpreting 
 comment is found throughout the story; look for other instances 
 of it. In these deep-founded philosophical asides, so consistent 
 with the talk of an artist because so representative of the artistic 
 mind and nature, lies much of the strength of the present story 
 as an interpretation of life and its forces.
 
 The Great God 547 
 
 20. Isadore looked up at me, and his eyes were shining 
 with tenderness at the memory of it. 
 
 21. " We sat down together and talked as though we 
 had met again after a long absence. This is the way, de- 
 pend on it, that love at first sight comes, not as a por- 
 tentous and shattering thing. It slips up on you while 
 you are not looking. You have the sense of reunion, of 
 
 21. May be thought of as another indication of the directness 
 and simplicity of the artistic mind. Observe the simple frankness 
 with which, all through the story, Isadore thinks and speaks of 
 intimate and sacred facts — taking it for granted, as should be 
 the case, that (his audience being fit) on high and vital themes 
 man's discourse may freely run. " Out of the fullness of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh." (One of the most damning charges 
 against any literature — and it has been laid against literature in 
 America — is failure to deal with vital things. There is no deny- 
 ing that our writers have often been reticent upon the highest 
 and deepest themes — have sometimes, unlike Mrs. Vorse, expended 
 their energy and their technique upon insignificant conceptions. 
 But if on the whole they have fallen short in this respect, they 
 may not be the ones solely to blame. Our American democracy, 
 in raising our people to the level of a self-satisfied and partly edu- 
 cated middle class — which rise and education are a triumphant 
 result — has yet created a public well qualified to read along the 
 middle levels, but not always to appreciate the outlook or the air 
 of the mountain tops. How many powerful studies of life, in 
 verse, play, conte, and novel, have been laid dejectedly away 
 upon the shelf by writers of achieved or potential mastership, 
 because the selective agents of prevailing taste and intelligence 
 refused them, heaven knows. That intelligence and apprecia- 
 tion steadily increase among us, seems certain. But it is also 
 true that the literature so far produced by our democracy has 
 often been reticent concerning the highly and intimately spiritual, 
 and that our literary and dramatic art, where it has succeeded in 
 getting before the public an interpretation of such things, has 
 often been forced to embody them in persons and situations and 
 to express them in language leveled down to the comprehension 
 of many far from adequately educated and cultured (the society 
 depicted ia "The Last Rose of Summer" is a fair example).
 
 548 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 meeting in the flesh your heart's heart, of something you 
 have known like your mother from the time you were 
 nursed at her breast. There is nothing that you wish to 
 shield yourself from at first. 
 
 22. " ' How do you like your first party ? ' Suzanne 
 asked me. 
 
 23. " She was so gay and happy that I hated to dampen 
 her pleasure, but I felt that there must be perfect truth 
 between us from the first. So I told her as gently as I 
 might how I had lived. 
 
 24. " Then I told her of my mother, so prematurely 
 aged, and how the sight of these people brought her before 
 me, until I saw pity for the world move in Suzanne's soul ; 
 and anyone who awakens this pity in another heart links 
 that person to himself. 
 
 That, notwithstanding such an obstacle to artistic vitality 
 and power, our writers have frequently succeeded in interpreting 
 to us not only the life of our democracy as it is, but also (even in 
 commonplace embodiments and a style adapted to mediocre ap- 
 preciations) spiritual conceptions of exalted significance, mani- 
 fests the irrepressible spiritual impulse of art and the skill of our 
 artists, and promises our continued if sometimes slow advance 
 in such intellectual and spiritual culture. We may hope there- 
 fore for the time when fewer people will be too modest to face 
 the facts of physical life except in prurient presentations, too 
 indolent of mind to think intently upon stern problems of exist- 
 ence, too narrow and dull to be interested in persons and things 
 outside the range of their own circumscribed experience and 
 their dime-novel or movie-comedy imagination, or too turtle- 
 souled to keep their head out of the shell when a spiritual theme 
 is held forth toward them. Our part in the world-struggle for 
 Liberty bids fair to win us a notable advance in this sjairitual 
 freedom also.) 
 
 23. Give the story a looking-through for instances of character- 
 hints (S. S. M., 257) in speech or act. 
 
 24. Is this in general the spirit of art?
 
 The Gkeat God 549 
 
 25. " ' This is the first time that I have been glad I am 
 poor, and sorry that I'm going to be rich/ she said to me. 
 
 26. " ' And why are you going to be rich ? ' 
 
 27. " ' Because/ she answered, ' the man I am to marry 
 is rich.' 
 
 28. " As she said that I knew that I loved her, and the 
 pain at my heart made me put into words almost uncon- 
 sciously the thought which sprang up in me: 
 
 29. " ' Why are you marrying him since you are not 
 in love ? ' At this she looked at me with the wide-open and 
 startled eyes of a gentle, frightened, wild creature. 
 
 30. " ' Why ! ' she said, ' I do love him, and I've al- 
 ways loved him. I've known him ever since I can remem- 
 ber, and I have always loved him.' 
 
 31. " But I knew that for the first time she realized 
 that she didn't. So in that one evening each one had 
 broken to pieces the other's life. Life for me had been, 
 up to that time, one of deep austerity. I walked between 
 two walls ; poverty on the one side, and on the other, work. 
 I had one life before me, and that was ambition ; and one 
 pleasure, and that was music ; and of course I had 
 dreamed dreams and I had read books, and then love came 
 to me in the shape that I had dreamed. At least, I had 
 that to be thankful for, for to how many does that happen ? 
 
 32. " I wish you could have seen her as I saw her. 
 What beautiful and wonderful things a special training 
 
 31. Determine for yourself whether a rise in intensity charac- 
 terizes the passage, pars. 11-31. Pick out other passages that re- 
 veal the climactic growth of emotion or situation. — Would it be 
 accurate to say that par. 31 is powerful? Can intense emotion 
 be expressed in quiet language? 
 
 32. See S. S. M., 107 : 29 and footnote, with preceding and fol- 
 lowing context.
 
 550 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 can make of a woman ! She had been brought up by her 
 grandmother, who had made Suzanne the poetry in her 
 life of self-denial. She had been an artist in human 
 nature and had perceived the rarity of Suzanne's soul, and 
 developed it, and sheltered it, and molded it as only tradi- 
 tion combined with seclusion from the world may do. In 
 Suzanne's expression was that calm serenity that only a 
 cloistered life, combined with high idealism, gives. One 
 saw through what beautiful and spacious days she had 
 lived. 
 
 33. " I learned that she had become engaged to a 
 neighbor, a man older than herself, whom she had known 
 always and who knew evidently how to cherish the jewel 
 life had given him. She was in New York for the first 
 time, staying with an aunt while she learned the ways of 
 society and bought her wedding outfit. 
 
 34. " I did not see her for three days, and during that 
 time she thought constantly of the world in which I had 
 lived, and my question, ' Why do you marry him if you 
 do not love him ? ' echoed and reechoed in her heart like 
 a strain of torturing music. She learned as I did how 
 long three days may be in passing. Before this, her days 
 had come and gone of equal length, beautiful and peace- 
 ful, framed between sunset and sunrise, as mine had been 
 bounded by an eagerness for my toil and a deep weariness 
 at the day's end. 
 
 35. " Suzanne's aunt was an amiable and indolent 
 woman who saw no danger in me. She handed the chaper- 
 oning of Suzanne over to some young married friend, and 
 
 35. Note that mere supplementary and subordinate motivating 
 may be introduced merely as a sentence or two of passing explana- 
 tion. This method is the simplest and most obvious, and also the
 
 The Great God 551 
 
 I took her with me to show her where I had lived. I had 
 her meet some of my friends. This went on for two weeks. 
 As I watched her and listened to her, I watched the great- 
 est miracle that man can witness — I saw life playing on 
 a beautiful spirit. 
 
 36. " Then one evening I found her alone. I played 
 to her the things which she herself had felt and said, for 
 she had the gift which some simple-hearted have who 
 distill in three or four words things felt most deeply by 
 their hearts." 
 
 37. Isadore had talked as though he were playing on 
 the violin, as if this memory told itself. Then he paused, 
 his ugly head lighted by the fire, and cried out, " How can 
 I forget her ? The first true music that I ever made was 
 only her interpretation. 
 
 38. " I played for her that night, and her surprise and 
 pity of the world was ready to pour itself forth in her 
 tears and the quickened beating of her heart. I saw her 
 soul before me like a flame shaken by the wind. And when 
 she asked me, ' What are you playing, Isadore ? ' I an- 
 swered, ' You, Suzanne,' and neither of us noticed that we 
 had used each other's first names. 
 
 39. " There was something so yielding and beautiful 
 in her abandon to my music that I got up and went away, 
 
 most likely to appear crude and awkward. It is especially suitable, 
 however, for statements of plot-embryo, synopses, and scenarios 
 (S. S. M,, 75:7), and is the only form adapted for moving- 
 picture action-plots and scenarios. A study of the so-called daily 
 short stories supplied by the syndicates to many newspapers will 
 show that this elementary form of motivating is almost their sole 
 dependence — a fact that goes far to account for their barren 
 crudity and general lack of artistic quality. 
 
 36-38. Study the interpretation of the spirit and significance of 
 artistic expression, exemplified here in music.
 
 552 Today's Shout Stories Analyzed 
 
 because I was afraid if I stayed there in the half twilight, 
 alone with the uncloaked flaming soul of Suzanne that my 
 music called to me, I would have taken her in my arms. 
 
 40. " I had a deep sense of responsibility. I knew how 
 uncertain is the fortune of a musician. I knew what a 
 sundering of the ties of family would mean to her. 
 What had I to offer her but love ? So that night I gave 
 her up. 
 
 41. " I meant to stay away and never see her again, 
 but I could not sleep at night, remembering how I had 
 played upon her as the wind w^ould play upon the strings 
 of a violin if the wind w^ere a person. Such sweeping 
 melodies of life had I played on her spirit! I never since 
 have seen anyone who felt life as she did, who responded 
 so to its high beauty, and who innerly wept at the great 
 pity of things, whose indignation at injustice flamed so 
 high. How could I help thinking of these things ? 
 Though I did not go to her, I played to her every time I 
 drew my bow across my violin, and I improvised her smile 
 and the glance of her eyes. 
 
 42. " Though I kept my promise to myself, I wasn't 
 strong enough. I thirsted for the sight of her. I ac- 
 cepted an engagement to play at a place she might visit, 
 and then another and another. The first time she saw me 
 she came toward me ; but I bowed ceremoniously and with- 
 out warmth, while it seemed to me that my heart shut so 
 tight that it squeezed every bit of blood from me. 
 
 41. Another of the numerous interpretations of the artistic 
 character and spirit afforded by this narrative. The susceptibility 
 of the artist to emotion, his sensitiveness to meanings that may 
 wholly escape the duller-souled, is one of the things that often 
 win him the contempt of the ignorant and stupid. (For another 
 angle on this, ef. " The Defective.")
 
 The Gkeat Gob 553 
 
 43. " The next time I saw her, although I did not take 
 a step toward her, my eyes plead with her, and she came 
 to me, first slowly and shyly and hesitatingly, and then at 
 last, in a little run, her hands outstretched, and she said: 
 
 44. " ' Isadore, where have you been ? Are you 
 angry ? ' giving herself with that humility which is so 
 much prouder than the pride that waits. 
 
 45. " Without thinking what we did, we left the 
 crowded drawing-room and found a deserted library, and 
 my arms were around her, and she was saying to me : 
 
 46. " ' How should I know what love was before ? 
 How should I know anything about it, Isadore ? for I 
 have never loved anyone else or dreamed of anyone else. 
 But, from the moment I saw you I loved you ! ' And then 
 she said, with her sweet and deep reproach, ' Oh, why did 
 you make me suffer so long ? ' for only those who have 
 felt it know the long agony that two weeks of doubt 
 may be. 
 
 47. " ' How could I have known ? ' was all that I could 
 say. ' How could I have known that you could care the 
 
 43. An admn-able example of restraint, otherwise called com- 
 pression and also economy of detail (S. S. M., 66:17-18; 80:3). 
 Restraint^ability to stop when enough has been written — to 
 avoid " slopping over " and excess or straining for effect in any 
 form — is the quality of high art. It will be found fully exempli- 
 fied in this story. In what other stories in this volume have you 
 noted it? Why is such simplicity and sparseness of detail adapted 
 to the present narrative, whereas abundance and profusion of 
 detail are demanded in parts of stories such as " Tropics?" 
 
 47. Is this a character-hint, showing us that Isadore was un- 
 selfish in his love? Do you judge that it was so intended? Is 
 careful consistency in character-creation indicated by it (cf. par. 
 23) ? To what extent is such unity of charactei'-concept essential 
 to plausibility? to unity of impression?
 
 55-i Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 way that I cared ? Now that you love me, life will be a 
 long, long strife for yon. You will have to walk to me 
 over the hearts of those you love! You will have to take 
 back your given word ! ' 
 
 48. " ' I know,' she said, ' I know ! ' But she was 
 only a little sad. For those who are brave the inner deci- 
 sion is the great cost, and she had that high gallantry 
 given to so few. 
 
 49. " It was one of those things too beautiful to last," 
 he said again after a pause, his brooding eyes looking un- 
 easily at the fire as his spirit traveled back over the years. 
 
 50. " It was so beautiful that w^e felt its doom as one 
 feels the doom of all lovely things. Its beauty made me 
 shiver, as do all the beautiful things in nature, davni, 
 childhood, the tender green of spring. The tragedy of 
 the w^orld is the evanescence of its beauty. 
 
 51. " Bloom falls from the trees in an hour, the beauty 
 of women changes even as we look at it : nothing remains. 
 Herein lies the greatness of art. The things I play to 
 you are beautiful tomorrow, and when I am dead they 
 will still be beautiful. Art stays for a moment the relent- 
 less hand of time. 
 
 52. " This foreknowledge of ours cast a shadow on our 
 joy. But when our doom came knocking at the door we 
 did not know it. 
 
 48. Another illustration of the fact that, if well managed and 
 kept ancillary, direct comment on life is possible in the short- 
 story. In this and similar passages, note the restraint (see par. 
 43, n.). Note further how the simplicity of thought and language 
 is consistent with the artistic mind, represented in Isadore (see 
 note on par. 11). 
 
 52-60. Here is a splendid opportunity for hectic portrayal, for 
 strenuous emotionalism. Our author has sensed the truer artistic
 
 The Great God 555 
 
 53. " First we heard that Suzanne's brother was ill, 
 but he had always been ailing. His sickness seemed to 
 have no bearing on our love for one another. Then there 
 arrived in New York the ailing boy, accompanied by 
 Kenneth Gresham, Suzanne's fiance. He was a big, kind- 
 looking man, serene and blond. The old grandmother 
 also accompanied the boy. She was a beautiful granite 
 rock of a woman, noble and austere, but the boy was a 
 frail and luminous shadow of Suzanne, the sort of boy 
 it wrings one's heart to see at all and that wrings one's 
 heart doubly to see in pain. 
 
 54. " Suzanne sent for me the day after they came, 
 and before she opened her mouth I knew that the blow 
 had fallen, for she had that look of exaltation that means 
 one has suffered to the other side of pain and has con- 
 quered pain. It seems that Gresham had broken the news 
 to her himself, and taken her tenderly in his arms while 
 he told her that the boy's life depended on an operation 
 that would have to be followed by long treatment in a fitter 
 climate. 
 
 55. " ' It would be better if we were married right 
 away,' he had said. 
 
 56. " The whole thing seemed a matter of course to 
 her family and she let them believe it was a matter of 
 course to her as well ; but the way she looked at me told 
 me how voluntary was her choice and how little she was 
 
 means — simpHcity and restraint. The bravery, completeness and 
 nobility of the saci'ifice sufficiently emphasize themselves (S. S. M., 
 66:17-18). In this story are no heroics and high-wrought emo- 
 tionalism ; note for illustration the discipline and the perspective 
 indicated by Suzanne's speech in par. 59 (this is quite distinct 
 from the fact that the speech turns out to be a prophecy 
 unawares).
 
 656 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 crowded into it by weakness. The joy of sacrifice had 
 been denied to me and my first thought was for her, and 
 I cried out, ' You can't sell yourself even for your 
 brother ! ' 
 
 57. " ' Why not ? ' she said with her head up. 
 
 58. " She made a magnificent spendthrift gesture. It 
 was as if she tossed the lad herself as lightly as she might 
 a rose. 
 
 59. " ' You know,' she told me, ' in some ways it won't 
 be so hard. It's life the way it might have been before 
 I met you. I'll have to make-believe that I just dreamed 
 you.' 
 
 60. " And then she came to me and put her arms 
 around me with an enfolding gesture as though she wished 
 to shield me from the pain that she herself was suffering, 
 and whispered to me again and again, ' Oh, my dear, my 
 dear, my dear ! ' 
 
 61. " It was as though this little whisper was the noise 
 of the bleeding of her heart. I never heard any other 
 word or cry elsewhere so poignant as that whispered ' My 
 dear,' and even now, after all these years have passed, it 
 comes back to me in my sleep. 
 
 62. " After all, I have had more than most men in that 
 I began my life on an episode of perfect and untarnished 
 beauty. Few of us ever see perfection. I suffered, but 
 there was no bitterness in my suffering. She had left me 
 no alternative but to be the best thing in life I knew how. 
 
 63. " What hurt me most was the irony of becoming 
 rich within two years after her great sacrifice. I used to 
 rave about this hopelessly. So for ten years I played up 
 and down Europe, working hard, and after a while the 
 
 62. Can fiction give us spiritual instruction and stimulus?
 
 The Gkeat God 657 
 
 tragedy left only the afterglow of its beauty. I had many 
 friendships with women, but, oh, the deep delight in liv- 
 ing that she had given me never came to me again. 
 JSTowhere have I found that swift flaming pity or that 
 swift flaming love. I have tried all my life to play as 
 poignantly as she felt. 
 
 64. " This seems to you to have very little bearing on 
 why I will not play for your friends. 
 
 65. " Wait. My real tragedy came later. Ten years 
 I said I never saw her — but I saw her daily. Neither 
 time nor other loves had dimmed my vision of her. Only 
 one thing could do that. 
 
 66. " Now listen and I will tell you how I lost 
 Suzanne. One day in the south of France I was walking 
 along the esplanade, and I turned around to find Suzanne 
 and her husband. Her husband had remained as I re- 
 membered him. What shall I tell you of Suzanne? She 
 was beautiful, oh, far more beautiful than as a girl, as 
 the world counts things. 
 
 67. " But in the complacent lines of her face and 
 figure there remained hardly a trace of the thing I loved. 
 There was no fire, the radiance had gone. She was sleek, 
 silken, beautiful. 
 
 68. " She had always responded to life. Life ebbed 
 and flowed through her as through no one else, and the 
 life she had lived, the soft life, the easy life, the life the 
 women of your world live, had killed the girl whose heart 
 had vibrated like the string of a violin under a master's 
 hand. 
 
 69. " This much I saw at once. They asked me to 
 come and see them. I could not sleep that night. I
 
 558 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 thought that alone with her I should find some trace of 
 the Suzanne I had loved, dimmed perhaps, but beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 70. " She was w^aiting for me on the terrace, a beau- 
 tiful, finished thing. She wore her clothes with a grand 
 air, her skin had the quality of some soft milky jewel, 
 that over-cared-for quality that I have come to loathe more 
 than any artificiality. Life had been so soft and so kind 
 to her flesh that her spirit had withered and died. She 
 had kept many lovely things, her innocent gaze, her sim- 
 plicity of manner, but the deadening terms on which such 
 women as she live had erased the deep reality of her love 
 and the pain of her renunciation. We talked of this and 
 that. Then she said to me: 
 
 71. " ' What romantic children we were ! ' An indul- 
 gent smile was all that life had let her keep of herself. 
 Then she asked me: 
 
 72. " ' I suppose I have changed very much ? ' 
 
 73. " There was a trace of complacent coquetry as she 
 said this that was horrible to me. She knew she was more 
 beautiful, but what hurt me most, I think, was that she 
 had not kept, as even the most hardened men sometimes 
 keep, the vision of her own lost youth. There are very 
 few men who are not visited at times by the boy they once 
 were, who sits beside them and asks for an account of the 
 ideals they once so deeply cherished. But Suzanne had 
 no such visitors to trouble her tranquillity. 
 
 74. " She said, I remember — how often I have heard 
 the words ! — ' I'm getting a little too fat, I think.' She 
 said it contemplatively but seriously, as though keeping 
 her body to a certain standard was her life work. 
 
 75. " Silence fell on us. In front the Mediterranean
 
 The Great God 559 
 
 spread its sheet of inconceivable blue to the horizon, and, 
 behind, the mountains climbed skyward. We could see 
 a little town far up on the hillside that looked as though 
 a handful of plaster had been flung on the sheer side of 
 the rock. The roses were in full bloom around the ter- 
 race. At the far end Gresham and a young girl were 
 walking up and down. She was a cousin of Suzanne's 
 and she had a darting look swift as a bird's flight, who 
 seemed more like Suzanne than Suzanne herself. Suzanne 
 watched them with a speculative and uneasy glance. The 
 activities of life had kept him young, and he had loved 
 the flaming thing she had been. He was the more faithful 
 to her that the flame still called to him. They came 
 toward her. 
 
 76. " ' You're coming this afternoon, aren't you, Su- 
 zanne ? ' he said after he greeted me. ' Won't you join 
 us?' 
 
 77. " ' Can one go by the carriage road ? Couldn't I 
 drive up and meet you ? ' She smiled up at me. ' I don't 
 like these interminable rough solitos.' 
 
 78. " Her husband hung over her. It was as though 
 he were pleading mutely : ' Come with me. Come forth 
 from your sleep. I have need of you.' 
 
 79. " She half consented, and then the habit of com- 
 fort and indulgence overcame her. 
 
 80. " ' Go without me,' she said, and I, since I loved 
 the memory of her, realized that this was the true moment 
 of her soul's defeat, since she could let those she loved 
 go hungry rather than disturb her comfortable sleek body, 
 go hungry until they found a way of feeding their souls, 
 without her, — and than this there is no greater spiritual 
 defeat for a woman.
 
 560 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 81. '' Comfort and security and the monotony of bcr 
 sheltered life had done their blighting work upon her. 
 There she sat, beautiful, silken, sleek like your women in 
 the opera, like the women I see, slave to the Great God 
 Comfort, the overthrower of empires who is stronger than 
 love. This is what makes me hate your world, your world 
 that destroys your women from want on the one hand and 
 with plenty on the other." 
 
 81. In your judgment, is this paragraph neeessai'y to complete 
 the application of the plot-facts to the theme and effectively round 
 out the story? Is there at this point any feeling of a didactic 
 effort on the part of the author, or does the momentum and 
 interest of Isadore's narrative successfully can'y us through what 
 corresponds in form to the " conclusion " prescribed by the 
 rhetorics in the "outlines" they require? What saves the para- 
 graph from such flatness? Does the style help? Does the fact 
 that it carries us back in thought to details that were — tempo- 
 rarily — prominent at the opening of the story, similarly help to 
 sustain interest in this ending paragraph? Is this recalling of 
 these details necessary for the sake of coherence — to " bind " the 
 framework, as carpenters express it? Finally, is a slight letting- 
 down of emotional or other intensity sometimes desirable at the 
 end?
 
 TROPICS 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. As indicated by the title, " Tropics " is strongly an 
 atmosphere story. The atmosphere is largely produced 
 through local color, especially that of physical environ- 
 ment ; S. S. M., 54-70. The second atmosphere quality 
 (S. S. M., 56, n.), mood, is partly that of strangeness, iso- 
 lation, and romance, partly that of activity and of strug- 
 gle against the conditions and spirit of the environment. 
 The protagonist is the White Man, represented in Wake- 
 man (with Faulkner in the background) ; the antagonist 
 is partly the semi-savage (represented in mass by the 
 Panamanians of the barrio), but mainly tropical environ- 
 ment. Temperament and personality in Wakeman and 
 the conditions of native life are contributing elements, 
 though of social characterization (S. S. M., 257) there is 
 a less amount. 
 
 2. Considered with reference to its persons, the story 
 is "the epic of Wakeman's life" (par. 239). I^ot only 
 is Wakeman the central, unifying person; he practically 
 is the story, so far as action is concerned. Faulkner ap- 
 pears as the agent of the generating circumstance when 
 he brings, to Wakeman, the demand of civilization for 
 struggle, but thereafter he is merely a contributing per- 
 son, aside only from the fact that his acquaintance with 
 Wakeman's struggle qualifies him to tell Wakeman's his- 
 tory. — Consider whether the conception of a short piece 
 of fiction as an epic tends for or against strict unity, or 
 
 561
 
 562 Today's Shokt Stories Analyzed 
 
 whether it tends toward a connected series of episodes. 
 Does the present story meet the theoretical requirement 
 explained in S. S. M., 16:2-5 — does it consist mainly 
 of the climactic scene and situation ? To what extent is 
 the panoramic presentation of environment (evidently in- 
 cluded in tlie author's purpose) responsible for the space 
 allowed to the ancillary episodes, and are they thus given 
 an importance that interferes with the structure mentioned 
 in S. S.M., 16:2-5? 
 
 3. Strictly, the narrator's angle (S. S. M., 138, 143- 
 141:) is that of a person (Faulkner) having part in the 
 story. Practically, however, the narration proceeds from 
 the " omniscient " viewpoint of the author. Faulkner's 
 account runs quite as would that of the author writing 
 wholly from the impersonal third-person point of view. 
 That Faulkner should know all these details of Wakeman's 
 struggle is made plausible by his repeated appearance in 
 the story, since we assume — without being told — that 
 Wakeman related them to him. The management in this 
 is worth noting, as adopting the angle of a participant not 
 infrequently makes awkward the introduction of facts 
 about which the narrator could have no personal knowl- 
 edge ; in some way his knowledge of them has to be plausi- 
 bly explained. 
 
 4. The style is notable for the presence of many epi- 
 thets — color words, sound words, action words. These are 
 often vividly and boldly descriptive and realistic, and their 
 vividness and boldness are heightened by " nervous," 
 forceful, broken sentence-form. Attention will be called 
 to some such passages in the notes, but the student can 
 profitably make a more detailed study of the descriptive 
 means employed. It is mainly through these that the
 
 Tkopics 563 
 
 atmosphere is " got over." Especially it is the abundance 
 of them, without repetition, that conveys the suggestion 
 of the opulence, prodigality, and luxuriance of the tropical 
 environment and setting. (The student may, however, in- 
 quire whether there is not a certain straining for effect that 
 would be manifest were it not for the rapidity of the nar- 
 ration and the quick powerful way in which the words 
 strike the attention — whether the volleys of them and 
 their sudden, novel vividness and realism have not a re- 
 sult like the striking of high-powered bullets, which at first 
 produce no impression but that of the blow, the full reali- 
 zation of the facts coming later. Occasional expressions, 
 at least, seem artificially forcible. l^ote some instances 
 of this.) 
 
 5. The student is advised to make a careful examina- 
 tion to determine the relative proportions of the four basic 
 elements present in this story — plot, theme, character, and 
 atmosphere (S. S. M., 54:1). — The aim of this study 
 should be, to form a conclusion on the question, to how 
 great an extent can any of these elements be minimized 
 without affecting more or less adversely the satisfying 
 impression left with us by the story as a whole ? More 
 specifically : Are the plot incidents of the present story suf- 
 ficient to carry the large amount of concentrative material 
 introduced (S. S. M., 107:30-39), or are they obscured 
 by the intensifying matter ? Are the stages of the plot — 
 rising action, decisive moment, climactic height — ade- 
 quately felt, or is the development (especially through the 
 rising action) more a series of successive incidents such as 
 characterize the tale (S. S. M., pp. 8-15) than it is close- 
 wrought in the strict sense? If so, is there any way by 
 which;, without sacrificing other things equally important
 
 564: Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 in bis purpose, the author could emphasize the quality of 
 dramatic plot ? Is there any lack of satisfying character- 
 portrayal (S. S. M., pp. 43-54; 208: 2-4) ? If so, could 
 the amount of individual characterization be increased 
 (and how) ? It may be well to extend this examination 
 to other stories included in the volume ; for instance, " The 
 Cat and the Fiddle," " The Love of Men," " Miss Mitty," 
 " The Defective," " Little Sunbeam," " A Quiet Life or 
 Life on the Quiet," et al. (These questions are put to sug- 
 gest profitable inquiries by the student toward a thorough 
 understanding of the short story in general, and not to 
 convey a criticism one way or the other upon this story.)
 
 TROPICS * 
 
 By Pateick Casey 
 
 Reprinted from "Adventure," December, 1913, by Permission of 
 
 the Editors and the Author. 
 
 (Copyrighted, 1913, by the Ridgway Company) 
 
 1. His was the same old story, drawled Faulkner/ The 
 heat, the consuming passions of the tropics, got him. 
 Around with the broiling Line and back again, it's the 
 same. You know. Love, free unhampered love in the 
 moist warmth beneath the palms. Bamboo huts where a 
 white is king ; a cooing maiden, part savage, more child ; 
 cocoanuts, bananas, yams ; visions of bliss and eternal 
 dozing, dozing 
 
 2. His voice droned off into silence. We hunched our 
 chairs closer.^ Faulkner had first-hand knowledge. He 
 had known the man. The ebb and flow of our cigarette- 
 
 1-2. The immediate beginning is worth observing. Writers 
 using the told-by-a-participant angle of narration frequently take 
 unnecessary time in getting to the narrative. Cf . the beginning of 
 " The Love of Men." — Observe how the tone of intense nervous 
 activity is struck at once in the abrupt words and sentences (but 
 see n. on 13). — What does the story gain by having the scene 
 of its telUng placed in Panama? Would there be a loss in unity 
 of tone were it told in Montreal? 
 
 * Through the courtesy of Mr. Casey, a copy of the original manuscript 
 was proviflv^d, making it possible to reprint his story with clear indication 
 of the changes owed to editorial revision before its magazine publication. 
 The variant readings appear at the bottom of the page, with index-flgures 
 in the text indicating the place in the sentences or paragraphs where the 
 omitted or altered passages stood. 
 
 ' MS : his rich tones splitting tho silence lilto electric sparks. 
 2 MS : The story was as enthralling as it was world old. And 
 
 565
 
 566 Today's Siioet Stories Analyzed 
 
 ends danced in the restless dark like the pinpoint blurs of 
 the city of Panama below. Faulkner began again : 
 
 3. Wakeman was one of life's flotsam. All his years 
 he had skimmed along the upper crust. I met him first 
 in 'Frisco. Pie was a mining engineer brimming with 
 visions of the future gold-mines of Colombia. 
 
 4. He was from the South. Swell family.^ He had 
 the look of it. He was tall, slim-waisted, broad-shouldered, 
 haughty-featured.^ Physically and morally, to look at him, 
 a strong man. He had pulled stroke on the Cornell eight. 
 But somewhere in the liquidity of his big brown eyes 
 floated Romance. That was ' the weakness. I did not see 
 it, then. He was going south, pursued by his dreams. 
 
 5. The years rolled into each other.* I was appointed 
 a sanitary inspector under Colonel Gorgas down on the 
 Canal. We wiped out the mosquitoes and the flies and the 
 rats, bubonic plague, typhoid, malarial and yellow fever 
 from Colon and Panama. We dosed everybody with ra- 
 tions of quinin.^ 
 
 3-4. On initial characterization, see S. S. M., 163 : 18-19. Note 
 the forecast contained in the sentences that refer to Romance; 
 they motivate the degradation in which Wakeman is later found. 
 Look for other mention of his weakness. Is motivation adequate, 
 though so limited? 
 
 5 ff . A double function : to create feeling of passage of time, 
 and acquaint us with determining conditions of the action. Ob- 
 serve how this passes on, from the end of par. 6 through 7 to 
 8-12, into preliminary indication of setting and environment. — 
 ' Study the effect of these words in producing a strong impression 
 of unwholesomeness. — ' Study these woi-ds as impression-makers; 
 
 ^ MS : — broad acres, statesmen, aristocrats even before the Revolution. 
 
 ^MS: His weaith of black hair waved, like a patrician's, back from a 
 high white forehead. 
 
 ' MS : the blight, the weakness. 
 
 * MS : and flitted by. 
 
 " MS : We Installed reservoirs, fresh water systems, mosquito screens, 
 public garbage furnaces — all manner of sanitary improvements at both 
 ends of wliat is the world's greatest engineering feat.
 
 Teopics 567 
 
 6. The newspapers at home were clamoring. ISTo dirt 
 was flying on the Big Ditch. But we had yellow-jack and 
 typhoid and malaria the length of the Zone to get under 
 control. Gorgas organized his anti-mosquito corps. I was 
 delegated to the '' Stegomyia Brigade." Yellow fever was 
 to be mine enemy. 
 
 7. I was stationed at Bas Obispo in the evil entrails ^ of 
 the Zone where the Chagres swerves. Word seeped down 
 to us that up the river a few miles a native village was in 
 the throes of the Black Vomit. It was off the beaten track 
 where white foot had seldom trod. I decided to investi- 
 gate and, if the reports were founded, to put the barrio 
 under quarantine. 
 
 8. I was proud in those days of the brass cross on the 
 collar of my khaki jacket. All the tortuous ^ passage up 
 the dismally ^ embowered^ stream I stood in the bow of the 
 cayuca and searched with my eyes the banking walls ^ of 
 morbidly ^ bright-colored ^ jungle-foliage. The air beneath 
 was dank ^ with steam and rancid ^ with vegetable odors 
 that weighed like a load on the lungs.^ The ^ banks were 
 bloody cesspools ^ of red clay. Back of them great coleus- 
 plants, arching ferns, cannas, and wonderful orchids 
 splashed the eyes with the tints of the rainbow.^ Over all, 
 in the stagnant ^ heat, draggled ^ the heavy fronds of 
 cocoanut-palms. 
 
 9. The yellow ^ stream took a bend. It flowed, deep and 
 sluggish ^ under the lattice-work ^ of foliage. The prow of 
 
 they are among the descriptive epithets already mentioned. 
 In the abundance of such words, this story reminds one of 
 Chateaubriand's pseudo-florid, pseudo-poetical descriptions; but 
 the style is more abrupt and nervous, and the method essentially 
 more " realistic." 
 
 *MS: flat banks
 
 568 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 the cayuca cracked " through a myriad of tiny floating sub- 
 stances. They were minute eggs — hundreds, thousands of 
 them. Some bobbed about singly, but most of them were 
 glued buoyantly ^' together, like a frog's with a thin paste- 
 like matter. They were the eggs of disease-breeding mos- 
 quitoes. We were approaching the empested village. 
 
 10. Mosquitoes struck ^ us in swarms. On they would 
 come, thin black clouds in the shimmering ^ humidity, and 
 strike like clammy ^ hands our exposed arms and faces. I 
 pulled my Stetson down over my eyes and, despite the 
 reeking ^ closeness, buttoned the top of my jacket to my 
 neck. I dosed my cargadores with quinin. I swallowed 
 eleven ^ grains myself. My system was hardened to the 
 drug.* 
 
 11. I broached a cask of crude oil and allowed it to 
 gluck-gluck ~ over the egg-strewn surface. A greasy scum 
 like blackish seaweed spread in our wake. That would 
 prove death to the larvae in the eggs. When they rose to 
 the top to breathe, not life but destruction would be drawn 
 into their bodies. The thick greasy oil would burn like 
 molten lead ^ down their breathing-tubes. 
 
 12. A clearing broke out ^ on the right-hand bank and 
 stretched damply ^ back, for fully an acre, into the shad- 
 ows of the palms. There were eighteen huts, bamboo- 
 walled and grass-thatched. It was known as San Juan 
 Bautista. When I left that day, there were seventeen huts.^ 
 
 ' MS : some thirty 
 
 * MS : I took from the stores an iron disinfecting pan. From the leafy 
 arcade, man-high above, I shoolj into it, in passing, some dead foliage. 
 I placed some chloride upon this and touched a match to it. The mos- 
 quitoes dropped, lilce swatted flies, through the suffocating greenish gas. 
 Looiiing baclv, I could see the smoke clinging in jade clouds to the scummy 
 surface of the water. 
 
 Leaving a cargadore to hold the smoking pan, 
 
 ° MS : The Lout Barrio. After eight years of concealment beneath an 
 interlaced mass of lush and creepers and ferns and trees, our engineers 
 unearthed it last week.
 
 Teopics 569 
 
 13. A khaki-clad American policeman paused below us 
 in the street in a shaft of light from the Government hotel, 
 and fanned himself with his broad Baden-Powell. Some- 
 one on the veranda scratched a match. It was as if a 
 calloused finger had rubbed down the length of an exposed 
 nerve of us. There was, in the dark, a vexed readjust- 
 ment of sitting postures. Then Faulkner drawled on: 
 
 14. About the harrio was no sign of life. The smooth, 
 round stones that take the place of wash-boards, the rough 
 knotty clothes-paddles were lying half-submerged in the 
 steaming silt, and no bronze-skinned Panamanian women 
 squatted, chattering like monkeys, in the red clay. The 
 ashes were gray in the rude outdoor fireplaces. There 
 were no naked, staring, kinky-haired babies rolling in the 
 grassy ways; no muffied crushing of maize before the 
 doorways; no swack of machete among the cocoanut-tufts. 
 ISTo movement, no sound, save only the monotonous drone 
 of the clouds ® of mosquitoes that rose and settled in the 
 dead air and flew back and forth.'^ 
 
 13. This paragraph contributes to the mood and tone effect of 
 the narration, and therefore justifies its interruption of the speak- 
 er's narrative. The place of the story-telUng, Hke the events of 
 the story, is tropical, and the tropical is presented as morbid and 
 nerve-ti'ying. — Note that again Faulkner is represented as drawl- 
 ing; but notice the further characterization of his speech in the 
 simile edited out of par. 1. Keep this in mind in realizing the 
 effect of his abrupt, incomplete manner of speech. Do the two 
 go well together? (The drawling speech, but for the lost simile, 
 would represent another characteristic of the environment — slow- 
 ness and inertness in human life under tropical conditions.) 
 
 14. Local color ( amounting to description of conditions of life ; 
 i.e., social characterization), setting, and atmosphere are all pre- 
 
 « MS : swarms 
 T MS : in clouds.
 
 570 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 15. Pestilence was heavy in the superheat. At each 
 breath the stagnant air seemed to shrivel my lungs. Swish- 
 ing and snapping with noise monstrous in the festering 
 quietude, we shot through the eggs and the out-reaching 
 ferns and lianas and reeds, and banked on the red clay. 
 An alligator, disturbed from its coma beneath the trailing 
 growths, slid with a splash into the water. A baby 
 squealed gaspingly; choked off; and all was still. 
 
 16. I leaped out. A crescendo of grunts arose from 
 one side, one weirdly higher than the other. A half dozen 
 ring-tailed pigs came nosing in the clay. In the stinging 
 sunlight a man had lifted himself from a supine ^ position 
 on the rude bench before a hut. He stood shading his 
 eyes, looking at us. 
 
 17. From head to foot, my eyes took in that man — 
 the interwoven mass of curly black hair, the smut of beard, 
 
 sented through the same set of details (economy of detail). 
 Observe the employment hei-e of the deprivative " no " with the 
 catalogTie of characteristic details, to effect the sense of atmos- 
 phere. The " no " creates the effect of contrast with what is the 
 usual state of things. 
 
 15. Part of the atmosphere of the story is that of suspense — a 
 sense of puny man facing an environment strange, unreal, and 
 powerful, over which his control is never sure. The sense of 
 this is conveyed in passages such as this paragraph. — Study the 
 effect-producing words as in pars. 7-12. 
 
 16. In this story, whenever man appears in action toward a 
 definite purpose, the sense of reality is present. In this fact lies 
 the power of the story to convey subconsciously the feeling of 
 human adequacy. Pars. 15 and 16 therefore present opposed 
 forces — nature in the tropics, and man. We are scarcely war- 
 ranted in assuming that the author planned this; but he has so 
 created that the fact is observable. So throughout the story. — 
 ' How does the word " supine " agree with and help to emphasize 
 one of the atmosphere elements implied in the title? 
 
 17. See again S. S, M., 163-164; see also 181:5. Detenmne
 
 Tkopics 571 
 
 the makeshift shirt open at the neck, the greasy trousers — 
 once brown khaki — rolled up to the knees, the bare feet. 
 I could have sworn the eyes beneath the cupped hand were 
 brown. 
 
 18. " Hello, Wake," I said. 
 
 19. He greeted me in his languorous drawl with my 
 name. 
 
 20. " Glad you remember me," he ended. 
 
 21. " Remember you ! " I blurted. " Why, man, what 
 about the mines in Colombia? What the deuce are you 
 doing here ? " 
 
 22. His lip trembled. 
 
 23. " I'm happy," he said. 
 
 24. He slumped back upon the bench and fingered a 
 freshly cut stack of cocoanuts alongside. Conversation 
 was not solicited. My questions disturbed him, I saw, like 
 the drone of a mosquito. 
 
 25. Single-handed, I went through the dying village. 
 You know the horrors. There was everything there, ma- 
 laria and typhoid and the [hideous]^ jack.® Five were 
 dead — one, a naked whitish baby at the breast of its child- 
 mother, a pitiful little black-eyed thing. The infant's 
 eyes were staring open, its face wrinkled as a hag's. 
 
 what details and words convey realization of the man's character 
 at this period. 
 
 23. Would there be gain or loss if the chain of ideas producing 
 this apparently irrelevant answer were explained by the author? 
 
 25-28. In keeping with the more general description earlier in 
 the story, but now specifically laying the foundation for the part 
 
 * " hideous " : not in MS. 
 
 ' MS : Some had only a touch of pneumonia. But most — oh, the 
 
 hideous yellowness of skins, the sweats, the deathly stupors, the piteous 
 febrile deliriums, the blaclt discharges ! Awful.
 
 5Y2 Today's Short Stokies Analyzed 
 
 26. I did what I could. I carried out the dead to the 
 red clay bank.^° I buried a litter of unwashed sweat-stiff- 
 ened rags and clothing. I gathered the refuse in a pile 
 and burned it. I heaped chlorin ^^ into the flames. I ran 
 with the iron fnniigating-pan back through the huts. I 
 threw carbolic, strong ammonia, chlorid of lime about in- 
 discriminately. According to the stage of the diseases and 
 the strength of the sufferers, I doled out grain after grain 
 of quinin.^^ 
 
 27. All the frantic time, from the bench Wakeman 
 watched us with his indolent brown eyes. He made no 
 move to aid. I thought him sick. When I came to his 
 hut, I found it one of the few exempt from disease. 
 
 28. It was not because it was more sanitary than the 
 other hovels. It wasn't. It was just as bad. Worse, for 
 a white man lived there. 
 
 29. He arose as we approached and slouched with us 
 inside. There was a Panamanian woman within. Ah, 
 she was a woman ! You know the kind — part Spanish, 
 part negro, part Indian. But this one was beautiful. 
 Nothing less. A golden-bosomed figure with large, swim- 
 ming eyes of the blackness of the deeps of the morass and 
 hair that undulated in jet tresses down her back. She 
 wore a loose low-cut cincture " and short cotton skirt. But 
 
 that is to be forced on Wakeman. The preceding description is 
 now seen to be preliminary exposition that motivates this further 
 exposition ; S. S. M., 79-85. 
 
 29-30. Study the method of description. No matter-of-fact de- 
 tails — height, features, etc. — are given; concrete details are just 
 
 •" MS : I emptied the stagnant rain barrels, with their breeding scum, 
 into the river. I broached a breaker of distilled water we had brought 
 with us and left it in a dry shady place, screened with mosquito-netting. 
 
 " MS : chloride 
 
 •='MS: I administered, to the most painfully stricken, soothing chloro- 
 dyne. 
 
 *^ MS : cinctura
 
 Tropics 573 
 
 unlike the other women, her hair was not bound up by a 
 gaudy bandanna. Perhaps he had not liked that custom. 
 
 30. She had a manner, that child. The while we went 
 through the squalor, the untidiness, the terrible sordidness 
 of the den, she clung to his arm and watched with her 
 jungle-black eyes his fine-chiseled face. She seemed to 
 think we were going to drive them out. In soft tones of 
 anxiety she cooed up at him. He answered gently and 
 patted her crown of hair. 
 
 31. Every action of them was a surprising shock to 
 me. For the first time, as he replied to her, I saw the 
 romance floating in his eyes. Wakeman was, for all his 
 face, as much of a dreamer as any Panamanian who ever 
 dozed life away in the moist warmth of the jungle. The 
 miserable medley of love and the tropics had wooed and 
 won him with its vampire charm. As for the child, all 
 she knew was that she loved this mooded mortal of civili- 
 zation. 
 
 enough to give a vivid impression (suggestive or impressionistic 
 description). Study also the impression-words. The absent ban- 
 danna is one of the details that intimate persistence in Wakeman 
 of old standards. The need of indicating this persistence accounts 
 for the idealization of the woman; had she been an ordinary 
 wench, we should feel that there is little left of Wakeman's char- 
 acter to respond to Faulkner's appeal. But she is in character 
 (we find presently) as in outward appearance a "golden" 
 woman, and in her beauty and the love between the two lies a 
 redeeming fact that helps to make believable the character-revival 
 in him — the flaring up briefly of his white-man's spirit. 
 
 31. The reference to romance (par. 4) is now given specific 
 application. It is the determining character-trait (at least in his 
 immediate past) of the central person, and is still strong in him 
 at the end (cf. par. 236). See S. S. M., 211:4. Consider that 
 although it is not prominent in the body of the story, it is in-
 
 574 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 32. I asked Wake if he and his jungle wife would take 
 into their hut and care for the pitiful little child-mother 
 of the baby. She was down with pneumonia. Her hus- 
 band, with five other natives, had deserted both herself 
 and the village at the first signs of the outbreak. She 
 might, with nursing, pull through without contracting a 
 worse disease. I emphasized how fortunate he was in that 
 barrio of ruthless death. 
 
 33. He bent over his mate and chattered softly. At 
 her answer he nodded. He said he would. 
 
 34. In that space I had been thinking. I would have 
 to go down the river some distance to bury the infectious 
 dead. More ; I would have to go all the way back to Bas 
 Obispo for supplies of food and water, febrifugal medi- 
 cines and disinfectants. Fresh outbreaks might delay me. 
 Time would pass ere I could return. We were running 
 short-handed in those days and I had no white man to 
 
 volved in Wakeman's struggle with himself in enforcing the white 
 man's standards — as when he keeps saying, " It'll be torment." 
 
 32. The first appeal to Wakeman's traditions as a white man. — 
 The use of the abbreviated " Wake," inobviously introduced here 
 and continued through the story, helps to establish Wakeman in 
 our favor and make him better known; men who lack good and 
 Hkable qualities do not win short and chummy nicknames. The 
 same fact indicates that Faulkner found him worthy of respect. 
 
 33. The white man's custom of considering the advice and 
 wishes of his women folk — and the woman's habitude of saying 
 that which she thinks will please her man. A touch of race char- 
 acteristic and a touch of woman nature. 
 
 34-40. The forceful man's quick seizing of the means to his 
 purpose, and the man-maker's stern employment of his power to 
 set the weaker brother a task that will strengthen him. These 
 elemental facts of life afford the underlying motivation by which 
 the author plunges " Wake " into responsibility and prepares the 
 way for the ensuing action.
 
 Tropics 575 
 
 leave behind to continue my wcrk. There was no white 
 man, other than Wake, within miles. A man was at need, 
 a white man. 
 
 35. I explained to Wake. 
 
 36. "For que no usted? " I concluded. "Why not 
 you ? " 
 
 37. His mouth fell open. It remained open. His eyes 
 seemed to float between the lids in a brown fluid.^ 
 
 38. " You are the man," I followed up. " Someone 
 has to stay here. You're in quarantine, anyway." 
 
 39. He nodded helplessly at the truth of the remark. 
 
 40. " Now," I expounded, " you'll be in charge. I'll 
 give you supplies " and medicines. You'll keep the harrio 
 clean. You'll attend the sick. Whenever somebody tum- 
 bles over, run up the yellow flag. I'll come after him. As 
 often as I can, I'll be around to see how you are getting 
 along." 
 
 41. " How long will it last ? " he asked drearily. 
 
 42. " Can't say. At the worst, till they're all gone. 
 Six months. If they die close together, it will be shorter. 
 Maybe two. There must be five days' quarantine after 
 the last case." 
 
 43. " It will be [torment].^ Do you think I can 
 doit?" 
 
 36. Local color through foreign speech; note the immediate 
 translation. — ' The struggle of devitalizing romance with duty. 
 This will now be found showing itself repeatedly. 
 
 39-41. Which deciding element is the stronger, Wakeman's ro- 
 mantic weakness or his Caucasian sense of necessity for the white 
 man to take up his burden? 
 
 '« MS : disinfectants 
 » MS : hell
 
 676 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 44. " It will be torment.^ But * you can do it. You're 
 white. You were a man once. The blood's still there — 
 the stick-to-it-ivencss, the never-say-die spirit of a white 
 man. Two months or more to make a man of you, Wake, 
 a white man ! " 
 
 45. The liquid brown of his eyes coalesced at the 
 words. They gleamed hard. 
 
 46. '' By Heaven,'* I'll do it! " he said. 
 
 11. 
 
 47. I placed the little jet-eyed mother in the hands of 
 Wake's golden " beauty. I stacked some dead leaves and 
 wood beside the vacated hut, strewed some oil over it, and 
 put a match to the pile.^ The air shriveled up with ® heat. 
 A continuous roar, a ° single pane of red — and the bamboo 
 and the thatch were a heap of gray ashes. There were 
 seventeen huts. 
 
 44. Brutal truth and human encouragement combined in effec- 
 tive appeal by a man who knows how to handle men. The speech 
 fits the man who makes it; S. S. M., 235: 11-13. 
 
 45. Climactic height or decisive moment of that moral, or char- 
 acter, crisis in Wakeman with which this stage of the narrative has 
 been dealing. We may call this part the stage of generating 
 incident in the moral action of the story. This moral action is 
 to be kept in mind and understood as hereafter accompanying 
 and affording motive and motivation (S. S. M., 16:11) for the 
 outward action. 
 
 47. The movements of the story so far are : 1. Introductory and 
 expository, pars. 1-13 (13 making an impressive pause between 
 
 ♦ MS : But, man, 
 » MS : God 
 
 • MS : jungle 
 
 T MS : Volumes of smoke curled upward and banked in the parched air 
 in a thick black cloud that enveloped the shack and hid the palm trunki 
 l)ehind. Then, of a sudden. V7ith a monstrous crackling, a single slieet 
 of flame shattered the opacity of smoke and leapt toward the peacock- 
 blue above. 
 
 s MS : the 
 
 * MS : roar, that single
 
 Tropics 577 
 
 48. I went with Wake through the village. I pointed 
 out what had to be done. He was to see that no one tam- 
 pered with the breaker of distilled water. He himself 
 was to dole out the supply of it. Quinin he should force 
 the well to take as regularly as the unwell. Like food. 
 He was to get the sweat-encrusted clothing from the 
 natives. 
 
 49. " Strip it off their backs as they sleep, if need be," 
 I said. " I'll bring a vat. Then you can boil it." 
 
 50. " It'll be torment," " he kept saying. 
 
 51. I collected all the old guns and pistols, firearms of 
 every description, in the village. I cast them into the 
 
 the opening and the main body of the narrative. Let the student 
 now note that 13 at onee supplies a momentary relief from the 
 descriptive tension of the preceding paragraphs, and keys the 
 reader to a greater intensity to come). 2. Exposition of the 
 essential situation, and the bringing on of the main actor, pars. 
 14-31 (in two parts, the first giving the physical environment, 
 with its accompanying atmosphere, the second passing from set- 
 ting to situation and persons; the woman, here introduced, is 
 more an element of the situation than an actor in the story). 
 
 3. Generating incident (see 45), and opening of the immediate 
 action, with Wakeman as the central person, pars. 32-46. 
 
 4. The beginning of Wakeman's activities under the new condi- 
 tions, pars. 47-63. 
 
 47 if . Integrating management (S. S. M., 166:23); coherent 
 transition is obtained by further mention of situation and atmos- 
 phere details, with Wakeman now taking active part. (Let the 
 student attentively I'eview up to par. 46, noting the large amount 
 of concentrative detail carried by the narrative and the complete 
 integration of the materials. On concentrative material, see 
 
 5. S. M., 107:30-31.) 
 
 50. The remark has already been twice made. It expresses 
 Wakeman's realization of consequences in his moral struggle (see 
 S. S. M., 171:4, consequential exposition). 
 
 "MS: hell
 
 578 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 cayuca. I handed Wake my own Colt's .38 automatic and 
 some spare clips. 
 
 52. " That will make trouble," " I smiled. " Man, 
 you're going to fight like a white. You'll meet opposition. 
 The natives are ignorant. The quarantine strict. Let no 
 one leave the village. Scar the flaming mastery of the 
 white man on their dark souls.^" Fight. It will make a 
 man of you, Wake. A white man." 
 
 53. I gave him from the boat's locker a yellow flag. 
 My eye had noted a lofty eighty-foot cocoanut-palm stand- 
 ing all alone to one side on a jagged spur of bank. It 
 could be seen for miles. I noosed a rope over a twenty- 
 foot leaf near the top. I cut a rude cleat, with its one 
 arm pointing downward, in the gummy trunk a few feet 
 above the base. I tied together the ends of the rope and 
 snapped it taut into the notch. It was an improvised 
 flagpole. 
 
 54. I wrapped the leathery bodies on the red clay in 
 army blankets and piled them atop the heap of weapons 
 in the bottom of the cayuca. The withered mite of a baby 
 made a pitiful bundle. I conquered a desire to shake 
 hands with Wake. He had his own redemption to work 
 out.' 
 
 55. " Adios," I waved to him. 
 
 53-54. Representative passages of realistic detail as found in 
 this story. The author gains much of his atmosphere effect 
 through realism. Incidentally, it is the realism that largely im- 
 presses us with the feeling that the narrative is true to fact 
 (S. S. M., 90:9-11 and 13— plausibility).— ' Two sentences that 
 remind us of the fundamental moral situation, or action. Watch 
 for other instances of such quick reminders. 
 
 " MS : make hell 
 
 »=> MS: Brand the high godship of the white man on their yellow souls.
 
 Teopics 579 
 
 56. We cut through the foliage arching the sluggish, 
 yellow stream. As we made the bend, I could see him still 
 standing on the bank looking after us. 
 
 57. He worked that day. That night he slaved. About 
 midnight the little black mother evidenced the symptoms 
 of the jack. It may have been contagion. The sting, in 
 the removal, of one of the droning mosquitoes. He put 
 his knee on her bosom, pried her teeth open with his knife, 
 and slipped the quinin-grains between them.^ To ease her 
 final agonies and still the pitiful cries for her baby, he 
 poured chlorodyne down her retching throat. She died, 
 and he carried her out to the clay bank, an uncanny red in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 58. That filled him with the Fear. He visited once 
 
 56. Observe the management in shifting the attention wholly to 
 Wakeman. We follow the boat out of sight, yet turn with un- 
 broken interest to Wakeman; skillfully done, making us feel as 
 if personally present with the actors. 
 
 57. Another of the items of realistic detail. The concentrative 
 material in these passages has its purpose in making us feel the 
 repulsiveness of Wakeman's duties and therefore causing us to 
 comprehend the magnitude of his moral struggle and victory. — 
 Note the ever-recurring descriptive epithets that keep us aware 
 of the local color of tropical environment. 
 
 58. Like 57, with the added human touch of fear for his wife. 
 Observe the use of the word " wife " ; in par. 32, the term changed 
 from " woman " to " jungle wife." Now " Wife " is employed 
 regularly. This is in effect an unconscious recognition of the 
 human relationship valid even though unsanctioned by conven- 
 tional forms. On the mental attitude toward Wakeman and this 
 relationship, as required by the present story, see n. on 29-30. 
 Her dog-like attendance on him strengthens our feeling. 
 
 ' MS : His wife stripped her of cinetura and sljlrt, and wound a blanliet 
 about her little, weak, damp form, the while he blew a sweating fire In 
 one o£ the iron fumigating pans.
 
 580 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 more, with disinfecting-pan and quinin, all the huts 
 in the harrio. His wife followed, dog-like, after 
 him. 
 
 59. Under a litter of rags in one corner of a hut he 
 foimd a dying boy. The little chap had reached the end. 
 His breathing was imperceptible. Like sand through a 
 sieve, his temperature was going down. Even as Wake 
 lifted him upon a cot he burned out. 
 
 60. A sullen trio watched Wake from the other end of 
 the hut — a young native, shuddering with m.alarial fever, 
 his wife, and the aged father of the two men. A dose of 
 quinin to the son. Then the white man turned on the 
 father. 
 
 61. He was an old, old man, knotted and almost de- 
 crepit. His teeth were gone. He was loathsomely unclean. 
 But he was well. He had a tenacious grasp on life. He 
 answered Wake's angry questions in a squeak through the 
 side of his shriveled mouth. 
 
 62. Him Wake blamed for the attempt to conceal the 
 dead. Amid squeals for forgiveness, he had him drag out 
 the corpse and lay it beside the child-mother's on the bank. 
 Then, as the old man made to slink back to his hut. Wake 
 informed him that he was his assistant. He would help 
 keep the village clean. He would be given more work to 
 do next day. It was poetic justice. 
 
 63. Then, in the leprous wash of moonlight, Wake ran 
 up the yellow flag. 
 
 60-62. Wakeman, in his returning manhood, now coerces the 
 old man, as Faulkner (34-44) coerced him. True to fundamental 
 facts of human motive, consistently realized and utilized by the 
 author in his creation of character (S. S. M., 182:6; 208: 2-3 j 
 2H-219).
 
 Teopics 581 
 
 64. Of the two bodies awaiting us on the clay, as we 
 beached late next day, the mother's face looked the babe's, 
 the boy's the wrinkled aged. Ere we departed, three of the 
 six natives who had deserted into the jungle dragged them- 
 selves on hands and knees back to the clearing. [They 
 were]* helpless from the pla"gue. One stuck his toes 
 toward heaven. He was the huge negro husband of the 
 child-mother.^ 
 
 65. " Well, how goes it. Wake ? " I asked. 
 
 66. " Just these three." 
 6Y. "And you?" 
 
 68. " For God's sake, give me something to do! Keep 
 me busy." 
 
 69. " There it is." I swept the stores [I had just 
 landed — blankets, rough clothing, iron pans, two huge 
 caldrons, mosquito-netting, febrifuges, and foodstuffs and 
 such duffle]. ^^ "Break oil over the stream, boil the mud 
 out of the blacks,® shoot alligators. But keep going, man. 
 And you'll do." 
 
 TO. We were off, the three bodies trussed like mummies 
 in blankets at the bottom of the cayuca. An epidemic in 
 a village midway down on the left-hand bank necessitated 
 our speedy inspection. 
 
 64. Begins another episode in the fourth movement. 
 68. In ten words, an adequate expression of the intensity of 
 Wakeman's struggle. 
 
 * MS : the clearing, helpless from 
 
 " MS : I had a twenty-foot dugout. I cast out blankets, rough cloth- 
 ing, iron pans and two huge caldrons, mosquito netting, febrifuges and dis- 
 infectants, a couple of breakers of distilled water, a supply of food, a cask 
 of oil and some other unmentionable and very vulgar objects. 
 
 ^b Not in MS. See 5, just above. 
 
 « MS : niggers
 
 582 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 71. From the slippery stretch of mud jutting out into 
 the river and facing that village I cleared the rotting 
 growths and laid out a base of operations. I could glimpse 
 from here above the vivid coloring of tropical vegetation 
 the tuft of leaves of the lofty palm-tree. But no saffron 
 banner broke out, all next day, from the tree-top to hang 
 limp in the heat. I busied myself running up supplies ^ 
 and attending personally to the village opposite. A short 
 distance upstream, on the right-hand bank, I had dedicated 
 our public burying-ground. 
 
 72. I did not want to bother Wake. I felt that in 
 shouldering all the responsibility himself he would work 
 out ® his own salvation. He would become the white man 
 he once had been. But toward meridian of the second day 
 I got worried about the absence of the flag from the cocoa- 
 nut-tuft. Surely the [scourge]® had not been downed so 
 soon. I launched the cayuca and with two cargadores and 
 a fresh load of stores, paddled up the reeking, canopied 
 stream. 
 
 73. As we turned the bend in a thick scum of oil, I 
 saw the flag jerking up through the simmering heat toward 
 the tree-top." In a trice we were running up the bank 
 alongside the leathery-skinned bodies of a man and an 
 aged hag. 
 
 74. Wake met us, his worshiping wife at his heels, and 
 behind the pair, the old toothless assistant. Traces of 
 
 71-72. Further contributive, or eoncentrative, detail; it might 
 be dispensed with except for the necessity of making us feel the 
 passage of time. 
 
 74. Another episode in movement 4 begins. — As the situation 
 develops, the wife becomes a more human element in it, without 
 
 'MS: stores » MS : Surely the plague 
 
 8 MS : most surely his *" MS : We made haste. In a
 
 Teopics 583 
 
 fearful work were on Wake's face. His eyes seemed tem- 
 pered to a brown gelatin/ The rudely contrived shirt and 
 greasy khaki trousers had been washed and clung, still 
 damp, to his frame. I noted with a distinct vibration of 
 pleasure that the trousers had been unrolled. They fell 
 to his bare ankles. 
 
 75. " Not so bad, old man." ^ I nodded toward the two 
 bodies. 
 
 76. " No.* They both toppled over, not a minute ago, 
 as from the same thunder-bolt." 
 
 77. A doubt appulsed on my brain. 
 
 78. " You're getting them all ? Sure they're not hid- 
 ing them on you ? " 
 
 79. He laughed with the overmastering confidence of 
 a white man. 
 
 80. " I should say," he drawled. " My assistant has 
 been example enough." He indicated the weazened old 
 man behind. " They none of them care to work as I'm 
 working him. Besides, I've laid out a sick-bay." 
 
 81. He explained the plan of segregation. An entire 
 family of seven had escaped scatheless the path of the 
 scourge. He had quartered them upon his poor assistant 
 in the hut where the young native hourly was throwing 
 
 becoming more important as an actor. — ^ Represents another 
 restoration in Wakeman of the white man's attitude — hard per- 
 sonal resolution (see 45) tempered into sympathy through endu- 
 rance and dealing with suffering. (The following sentences men- 
 tion outward evidences of his spiritual alteration.) 
 
 79-80. These confirm 74, and make us see that the transforma- 
 tion is becoming thorough. What further indications of this in 
 the rest of the episode? 
 
 ^ MS has a comma. The punctuation has been edited a good deal 
 throughout, sometimes apparently without consistency or sufficient reason. 
 «MS: No, said he.
 
 584 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 off the malarial cliills. The vacated hut he had established " 
 as a hospital. 
 
 82. He led me to it. As the thatched bamboo hut 
 showed ahead, I caught a [dull low monotone of pain]® 
 broken only, now and then, by screams as of unendurable 
 agony. The doorway and window apertures of the hut 
 were screened, I saw, with mosquito-netting. Inside, the 
 walls were whitened with huge dabs of chlorid of lime. 
 The air was stifling with heat and medicinal and sweaty 
 odors that caused the brains to reel in the brain-pan of my 
 head. 
 
 83. There was from the doorway a yard-wide walk, 
 the soggy mud flooring of which bad been banked with 
 fresh clay and tamped down hard and smooth and red. 
 Beside that, down the length of the hut, was a raised plat- 
 form of palm-slabs, six feet wide, with a slight slant to- 
 ward the passageway. 
 
 84. Stretched side by side in blankets on the platform, 
 and writhing and tossing, [groaning and moaning,]^ lay a 
 round dozen sick. They were old men and young, women 
 and kinky-haired children. Over their convulsed faces lay 
 the gauze of net-woven mosquito-screening. 
 
 85. " Looks bad," I commented. 
 
 86. " It's torment," ^ said he. 
 
 87. He went dow^n the line, dosing each tossing form 
 with medicine. One lay still. As he came upon it, the 
 
 86. Now spoken of his charges, not of himself ; he is forgetting 
 himself in behalf of others. Note the eharaeter-ehange thus 
 quietly made clear. 
 
 " MS : established, for the .Tack cases, as 
 
 • MS : a low and continuous moaning and groaning broken 
 
 ' MS : tossing, and breathing that dull low monotone of pain, lay 
 
 « MS: hell
 
 Tropics 585 
 
 toothless old man aarkencd the doorway and behind him 
 were halted four of the younger natives bearing two fresh 
 cases, shrouded in blankets. To these he gave quinin. 
 He indicated where they should be placed. He ordered 
 the dead man to be carried out. He spoke in the sharp, 
 decisive manner of a man who must be obeyed — a white 
 man. The aged assistant blinked assent. 
 
 88. We staggered out into the blinding sunlight." I 
 uttered ^° no word of praise. Only I smiled to myself." 
 
 89. We took aboard the three bodies and as many empty 
 water-casks. I stuck the pole to shove off into the red clay. 
 I thought of the unrolled trousers. I paused. I said : 
 
 90. " Anything you need, old man ? " 
 
 91. He shook his head in hesitating negative.^^ His 
 
 88. Though the narrative reveals it, we are nowhere expressly 
 told that Faulkner planned Wakemau's redemption. To suggest, 
 not to declare by matter-of-fact explanation, is the aim in art. 
 
 90. Like Faulkner, we are now prepared to accept Wakeman as 
 an equal. Note two facts. The remark is satisfactoiy as a detail 
 of dialogue, but it has a more important function than serving 
 as conversation; i.e., to indicate by suggestion Wake's redeemed 
 status. 
 
 91. ' The boyish act expresses the man's shamed sense of his ill 
 appearance. Self-respect, when active, calls for respectable 
 
 oMS: He had put the iron vats to ^ood use. Wake had. In them, by 
 an admixture of corrosive sublimate and tepid water, he had brewed an 
 antiseptic wash, and he and his jungle mate had bathed thoroughly. He 
 had made all the natives, well enough, leap in like frogs, one after the 
 other. The while he had stolen the clothes they had worked and perspired 
 and slept in. 
 
 He had laid out for their use my rough supply. But there had proved 
 not enough to go round, so he had boiled the sweat-stiff clothing, his own 
 among them, to a pulp and apportioned them out, still wet. Then he had 
 carried out the sick, doused them into the caldrons, and let them boil. He 
 had wrapped them in blankets and stretched out the yellow ones in the 
 sick ward. He had dosed all with quinine. His brown eyes twinkled as 
 he told me how they all of them had raved and sweated. 
 
 1" MS : I gave vent to 
 
 "MS: We landed more medicines and disinfectants, foodstuffs, dis- 
 tilled water, oil and such duffle. 
 
 '2 MS : " I have you on the pay-roll," I tried to bolster up his courage. 
 " Assistant United States Sanitary Inspector, you know. Four and a half 
 per."
 
 586 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 eyes dropped to his bare feet and he stubbed a toe ^ into 
 the clay. He felt my eyes follow his. His face flushed, 
 beneath the tropic saffron, with warm color. He blurted 
 out: 
 
 92. "Shoes." 
 
 93. " Righto ! " I said, mentally measuring his feet 
 with my eyes,^^ " That's all, sure ? " 
 
 94. He warmed red as the clay at his feet. After a 
 long, embarrassed silence 
 
 95. " Can you get me a bright bandanna ? " he asked 
 breathlessly. 
 
 96. That, I knew, was for his bride of the jungles. He 
 had been unable hitherto to afford it. 
 
 97. " I'll bring them all, manana/' I said. 
 
 98. I was far ^* happier than my voice implied. 
 
 III. 
 
 99. The sun belched shriveling heat many times upon 
 the village while it continued to gasp beneath the horror. 
 
 raiment. The author here employs psychological fact in further 
 indicating Wakeman's awakening. 
 
 95-96. A reminder of his recent condition. It helps to afford 
 contrast with his present condition. (It is a little hard to recon- 
 cile 96 with the last sentence of 29. Possibly the author 
 " slipped " ; or, perhaps, we are to understand that, in his new 
 state of mind, Wakeman has a more tender comprehenson of the 
 woman's desire for the gaudy headgear, and a livelier wish, in- 
 creased by his fear for her safety, to do all that he can for her 
 happiness. The strength of his affection for her is increasingly 
 revealed as the story proceeds — another means used to establish 
 our sympathy toward their association; see 29-30 and 58). 
 
 99-111. Summarizing narrative, covering the passage of longer 
 
 '»MS: "Nothing else?" 
 
 " A razor." 
 »* MS: far, far
 
 Tropics 587 
 
 The work had settled down to a fearful routine. More 
 than once Wake cleared the hospital of dead, only to find, 
 after a maddening vigil of one or two or even three days, 
 that new cases were falling and filling the sick-bay to over- 
 flowing and pouring out into the huts. There had been 
 some ninety souls in the harrio. There still lingered half 
 a hundred. 
 
 100. I would row up supplies every two days or three 
 or four, and carry away the hideous freight. Once it ran 
 the occult five that would release the village from bon- 
 dage. But that evening, ere purple dusk, the lemon ensign 
 of death draggled from the tuft. A man had vomited and 
 stuck his feet, within the space of an hour, toward the 
 burning sheet of blue. The iron clutch of quarantine was 
 on like a vise once more. 
 
 101. The racking strain showed on Wake. His face 
 had lost its indolent oval. The cheek-bones were high, 
 the haughty nose never more imperious. His eyes were 
 coals of brown fire. Beneath the snug suit of khaki with 
 the brass cross on its collar, the loaded cartridge-belt about 
 his middle, the .38 Colt's automatic in the holster at his 
 
 time. This portion gives opportunity for introducing ancillary 
 matter — further indication of the effect of his work on Wakeman, 
 description of the psychological reaction (102), expository matter 
 preparing for the further development of the action (103-111), 
 and the bringing forward of the old assistant in preparation for 
 his coming role as a participant. On the introduction of contribu- 
 tive matter in places of lessened intensity and the keeping of 
 it subordinate, see S. S. M., 152 : 2-4 ; 165 : 21 ; 166 : 23 ; 225 : 13.— 
 These twelve paragraphs are the introduction to the fifth stage 
 of the development. In the fourth movement, Wakeman's out- 
 ward struggle has been waged with physical environment and 
 disease ; in the present movement, he is to deal with human oppo- 
 sition and passions.
 
 588 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 hip, his frame "svas upright, compact, resilient. He came 
 down hard on the heels of his armj shoes. 
 
 102. I knew what he was going through. I was ex- 
 periencing it in the empested village down on the other 
 bank. It was not so bad when they were dying. The days 
 when there were no stricken, and the hospital was empty, 
 and each man eyed, with glaring threat, his fellow lest he 
 should come down — that was maddening.^ 
 
 103. On such days the monotony of rounds carried 
 Wake * only a little past noon. Then the men free from 
 duty, would gather in sullen groups and pretend sleep in 
 the shade. But when he was not looking, he knew they 
 were whispering together. 
 
 104. They wanted the iron quarantine lifted. They 
 wanted to relapse into their old mode of life, with all its 
 indolence,^ its frightful sordidness. Some there were who 
 wanted to flee from the infection into the jungle. That 
 w'as the ignorant native way which spread the plague right 
 and left. 
 
 105. Wake tried to keep them on the jump. He had 
 them put mosquito netting over the doorways and aper- 
 tures of ^ the huts. Oil covered like a film the sluggish 
 yellow bosom of the stream from bank to bank. [Dry clay 
 was strewed over the oozing floors and stamped down to 
 stability.]^ He looked about for more work. To that end, 
 he had them drain into the river beneath the trees and 
 
 ' MS : You can Imafrine it. To go five days immune from disease ; to 
 look for the lift of the bars, the release from quarantine and the eternal 
 vii^il ; and to have the whole flat monotony snap down again, like an 
 endless treadmill, with the closing of a pair of glazed eyeballs. 
 
 Wake found his worst periods when the hospital was empty. On such 
 
 * MS : carried him 
 
 ^ MS : Indolences 
 
 « MS : of all the 
 
 ■^ MS : He had them strew dry clay over the oozing floors and stamp 
 it down to stability.
 
 Tropics 589 
 
 undergrowth a shallow infectious morass on the edge of 
 the jungle. They found the body of the fourth deserter 
 festering in the silt. 
 
 106. Deaths had broken out afresh, after that. Two 
 of the toilers were taken down even as they bore the body 
 toward the bank. The wives and offspring ^ quickly fol- 
 lowed. In a fortnight, a score had gone. 
 
 107. " The yellow beggars are dying out of spite," 
 Wake said to me. " They lack grit.^ They believe they 
 are going to die, and die just to prove it." 
 
 108. " They're not white men," I said. 
 
 109. Wakeman knew that morass ought to be filled with 
 earth. The mosquitoes and the infection still steamed up 
 into the dead air from the mud. He hesitated to give the 
 order. He felt that the natives blamed all the recent 
 deaths on him and his love for work. True, they obeyed 
 his orders, but often he saw their eyes tighten to a line 
 with a gleaming center. There were mutterings in the 
 chest. He sensed the evilness seething beneath the tropic 
 indolence. 
 
 110. He discovered that the half-score men stood in 
 fear of his old toothless assistant. No groups collected 
 while his hairless, parch-lidded eyes blinked on them. But 
 he took a siesta in the feverish warmth of the noontide. 
 Once he came unawares on their gathering. A squeak 
 through the side of his mouth and, like rats, they dis- 
 persed. Then he smirked up to the watchful Wake. 
 
 111. Wake knew. He was no fool. He knew his 
 adopted people. The old man had not this power through 
 his present position. He was a deeper rogue, a smoother 
 
 " MS : wives and children 
 » MS : lack guts.
 
 590 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 villain. Like the Spanish wench ^^ that makes love to a 
 man as she stabs him, he was for a purpose pouring oil over 
 the implacable resentment against Wake. He was wait- 
 ing, [like a snake,] " for the moment to strike. He 
 would wipe out in blood the sweat the white man had 
 made him shed in toil. 
 
 112. At last, once more, the hospital was empty. Two 
 days passed.^^ Then three. They entered upon the fourth. 
 It was one of those intervals of fancied fredom from dis- 
 ease that stretched as on tenter-hooks the soul of every man. 
 Duties were finished hurriedly, slipshod. The groups col- 
 lected. [Ferocious individualism]" broke out. Each man 
 eyed his fellow with a menace, writ in blood on his eye- 
 balls. Every man eyed Wake, stalking back and forth 
 along the bank with great steps that were almost bounds, 
 and the same menace was written there for him.^* 
 
 113. Wake, as he paced the clay, felt the glaring eyes. 
 He was a framework of raw nerves. It nettled him. He 
 must do something. Were a man to fall, like wolves they 
 would be at one another's throats. They would try to 
 conceal the dead. It would be as much as his life was 
 worth to run up the yellow flag. He knew for a certitude 
 that this time the old man would not hold them back.^ 
 
 112. Like 102, it presents psychological conditions. They have 
 become determining forces in the action, and are therefore essen- 
 tial to the motivation. 
 
 113. ' The old man is to be the chief antagonist in this part of 
 the struggle. Wakeman is the protagonist, faemg general opposi- 
 tion, centered in the assistant. 
 
 >» MS: slut 
 
 "MS: waiting, as a snake waits, 
 '^MS: passed and no new oases. 
 
 ^^ MS : Savage individualism — the old long struggle of each man to 
 survive — broke 
 
 ** MS : for him. Pity the one who should come down !
 
 Teopics 591 
 
 114. [" Sear the flaming mastery of the white man on 
 their dark souls,"] ^ I had said to him. 
 
 115. He thought of that. Work they hated. He would 
 give them work. He would make them work. He had it. 
 He would force them to fill with earth the infectious 
 morass. 
 
 116. " Here ! " he shouted. " Get out of this." 
 
 117. He strode among the groups and kicked the men. 
 They scowled at him. Some muttered; but all, save one, 
 got afoot. He was the son of the old assistant, recovered 
 from the malaria — a brown, lithe young native with shift- 
 ing eyes. The white man reached down and grasped him 
 by the nape of the neck. He lifted him bodily into the 
 air. With a jar that bent the bones under him, he brought 
 him down upon his feet. 
 
 118. " There! " he said. " Xow you come." 
 
 119. He armed them with picks and machetes and 
 shovels. He strode, at the head of all that sullen straggling 
 throng, through the jungle toward the morass. He never 
 once looked around. 
 
 120. As they broke through the rotting growths, the 
 old man fell back to jabber softly to his son and the other 
 natives. Wake missed him from his side. He felt the 
 hidden drama afoot. He did not look back. 
 
 121. Once, he slipped in the black muck. He sensed, 
 as he caught himself, the desire leaping in their dark 
 
 115. In contrast with himself not long before, when his con- 
 duct was the same as theirs. 
 
 119. Why? What motive does it indicate in him? What 
 quality? See 120 and 121. 
 
 3 MS : *' Brand the high godship of the white man on their yellow 
 souls," 1 had
 
 592 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 hearts to spring upon him and mash him into rcpulsive- 
 ness. He never turned his eyes from ahead. That spirit 
 of the dominant white man awed them. 
 
 122. With a sullen will they fell to on the work. The 
 machete-crew cleared away for the picks the dense vegeta- 
 tion that concealed the teeming black earth. They turned 
 and loosened the muck, and shoveled it from the sides 
 into the mud of the morass. 
 
 123. Wake bounded among them, looking for trouble. 
 He wanted trouble. To a man fresh with vigor the 
 strained situation w^ould have been trying enough. As it 
 was, himself a frame of raw nerves, something had to be 
 done. But no one offended him. They knew. They were 
 growing crafty. 
 
 124. He watched, with a distinct pang of dread, the 
 blinding day deepen into purple evening. He had been 
 unable to brand the lesson on their cunning souls. He 
 had returned to the village to find no fresh cases. Thirty 
 hours more and the irksome ban w^ould be lifted. The 
 suspense was on them like thumb-screws. He could see 
 the natives huddled in w^atchful groups, their eyes glow- 
 ing like owls' in the light of the trembling fires. 
 
 125. His wife busied over the rice vibrating in a black 
 
 123-124. A suspense device: the decisive moment in his struggle 
 with the natives is postponed through their craftiness (temporary 
 defeat). 
 
 125. Third episode, fifth movement begns. — Note the recurrence 
 at intei'vals of things that keep our sympathies with Wakeman in 
 his domestic relations. These human passages showing his love 
 for the woman not only hold our sympathies, but motivate the 
 tragedy of her death in a later episode. 
 
 125-128. Intensifying and suspense-creating details.
 
 Tropics 593 
 
 pot on a handful of burning sticks. A sudden fear for 
 her gripped him. He put his arm about her golden 
 shoulder, lifted the pot from the fire, and went with her 
 inside. They ate that night behind the mosquito-screened 
 doorway. 
 
 126. He lay down, heavy with sleepiness. But he could 
 not sleep. His automat, was on the cot under his hand.* 
 He was wide-eyed awake. A bare foot had flopped outside 
 in the grassy way. His fingers closed over the butt and 
 he listened. He knew several men lurked in the moon- 
 light. He slipped off the cot and sidled along the w^all. 
 His right hand leveled the automat., his left reached out 
 and snapped aside the netting. There was a rustle where 
 nothing stirred in the windless air. 
 
 127. He roundly cursed ^ the natives and the moonlight 
 as he crawled back on the cot. For long moments his 
 brains peopled the clearing with vague life. Once, he 
 thought he caught the splash of water. It may have been 
 a fish leaping through the sheen-coat of the river. Then, 
 in the moonlight all was still and breathless with heat. 
 Inside, in the dark, his hand on the revolver, Wake tossed 
 and mumbled in uneasy slumber. 
 
 128. He went his rounds next morning — the morning 
 of the last day — searching for trouble. That night had 
 showed him the natives were growing bold. Any moment 
 they might pounce upon him, risking the quick death of 
 the rattling automat., rather than linger in the village 
 for the yellow one they felt certain awaited them there. 
 [It spurred the mastering spirit in him to bend them to 
 his will.] « 
 
 < MS : his hand. On the sudden, he was 
 
 ■> MS : cursed roundly the 
 
 « MS : them there. It urged the lording spirit in him to mold them to 
 bis win.
 
 594 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 129. He found trouble. From the ten people in his 
 assistant's but, bo missed tbe wife of tbe young native. 
 Tbc old man squcakingly explained tbat sbe was about the 
 village. Tbe younger one muttered deep in bis cbest and 
 snapped at bim witb bis ferret-eyes. 
 
 130. He realized tbe uselessness of questioning them. 
 He knew. Even before be ransacked every but in tbe 
 harrio, be knew. Tbe woman bad gone under from tbe 
 plague. Tbey bad bidden ber. Tbey migbt have buried 
 ber alive. 
 
 131. He penetrated tbe jungle to look for fresb-turned 
 eartb. Tbat would be tbe grave. He asked no one to 
 help bim. Not even tbe oily assistant. He bad work cut 
 out for bis own band. When be found it, tbat band would 
 fall bcavily upon tbem. He recalled tbe flop of bare feet, 
 tbe rustle in tbe undergrowth of the night previous.' That 
 was tbe burial procession. 
 
 132. But no space cleared of rank growths, no fresh, 
 teeming muck met bis eyes in tbe twilight deeps. The 
 filled-in morass had been tramped into solidity by many 
 bare feet. Whether by the workers of the afternoon or 
 tbe ghouls of tbe night, he bad no means of making sure. 
 He strode back toward the clearing. 
 
 133. Several bright-plum aged birds fanned by bis face, 
 like clammy bands, in noiseless flight. They bad been 
 startled from tbe sun-filtering foliage ahead. He made 
 out, in tbe stagnant gloom, four young natives coming 
 
 129-142. Completes the action of the second episode (see 123- 
 124), with Wakeman temporarily the victor in the contest. 
 
 * MS : night prior. 
 
 I
 
 Tkopics 595 
 
 toward him. They were armed with machetes. One was 
 the shifty-eyed son of the old assistant. 
 
 134. " Hello," he said. " What's up ? " 
 
 135. They stopped before him in a sullen cluster, and 
 moved uneasily. Their black eyes gleamed with ex- 
 pectancy. Something was about to happen. 
 
 136. " We have come, senor, to help you search," said 
 one. 
 
 137. He made [as if]* to step alongside of Wake. It 
 was a move to precipitate all of them into a concerted 
 action. Wake's hand shot out to his shoulder and wheeled 
 him back into the others. 
 
 138. "I don't need you," he said. "Clear out.' 
 Pronto ! " 
 
 139. They did not move. The son of the assistant 
 elbowed a trifle closer. His eyes were glistening and shift- 
 ing like a wild animal's. 
 
 140. " Senor," he said. " Ayer, yesterday you hit 
 me " 
 
 141. He never finished. In one bound, Wake cleared 
 the space separating him from the man. His fist, doubled 
 to a knot, fanged out and landed flush on the point of the 
 other's jaw with all the impetus of his body behind it. 
 The brown head bent like a reed backward. He toppled 
 sidewise and spread-eagled in the growths. Wake's arms 
 swung around like flails. To all sides, into the brush, the 
 three scattered as so many frightened grouse would scatter 
 to cover. 
 
 142. " Yes. And I've hit you today," he said as he 
 bent over the prone form. 
 
 * MS : He made to step 
 «MS:Qut. Vivo I Frontal
 
 596 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 143. lie halted dead on the edge of the clearing. 
 
 144. " Jesiis-Maria," he said. 
 
 145. It was not a blasphemous ejaculation. It was the 
 name of a man. But not of the yoimg native lying on his 
 face, his arms outspread, in the rank undergrowth. It 
 was the name of the old toothless assistant. 
 
 IV. 
 
 146. A torpor had fallen from the vault of brass. The 
 midday was dead with heat. There was not a flutter of 
 wind. The river was a black simmering sheet of grease 
 from bank to bank. In the clearing nothing stirred. The 
 mosquitoes lay in motionless, droning brown patches on 
 the grass. The thatch of the roofs crackled under the 
 superheated stagnancy. Within, in the obscurity, the na- 
 tives tossed and sweated and gasped for life from the 
 pestilential air. 
 
 147. Wake, as he stood, felt his lungs tighten and the 
 sweat burst his pores and trickle in streams down his face. 
 Wherever the khaki snugged his frame, the sweat was dye- 
 ing it to a browner hue. It showed through at the shoul- 
 ders and in a spreading circular band beneath the belt at 
 his middle. He made for the water-breaker in the shade 
 of his hut. The stinging sun rays stabbed like white-hot 
 points into his brains. 
 
 146-155. The fourth episode begins. As far as 150, it consists 
 of a new concentrating incident (the story is made up largely of 
 concentrative or intensifying incident, with its amplifying detail, 
 as distinguished from plot incident; S. S. M., 108:32-33). Pars. 
 151-155 then take up and complete the unexplained facts of 
 126-127. — So closely connected are the two remaining episodes 
 with the preceding one that all are for practical purposes only 
 one. The divisions would come at 156 and 169.
 
 Tropics 597 
 
 148. The mosquito-netting was awry. It draggled over 
 the edge of the barrel. He remembered having spread it 
 quite carefully over the top. That was a part of his 
 rounds. A subtle suspicion caused him to turn the cask 
 over. The distilled contents flushed out and almost im- 
 mediately the blazing sun pumped it in steam up into the 
 dead air. In the bottom of the breaker, wrapped about a 
 round smooth washing-stone, fumed a gaudy red and white 
 bandanna. 
 
 149. He fished it out. A shiver like the icy-cold belly 
 of a snake was oozing up and down the marrow of his 
 spine. The young native's wife had worn on her head a 
 bandanna of red and white printed calico. The water he 
 himself had set there for his own use. 
 
 150. " Jesus-Maria," he said quietly. 
 
 151. He made for the bubbling bank to cast the stone- 
 laden bandanna through the oil film. He carried it gin- 
 gerly between thumb and forefinger. He believed it in- 
 fected with the fever germs. He circled the clearing to 
 keep in the shade of the festering growths. The band of 
 his Stetson, as he walked, beaded with a circle of sweat 
 globules that splashed on the slight bulbous tip of his nose 
 and drip-dripped down his flaming back. He came out 
 on the steaming clay beneath the snaky tendrils of 
 creepers. 
 
 152. Three feet beyond him on a hissing mudbank be- 
 
 150. Cf. 144, and note that in effect what Jesus-Maria did is as 
 much told as if we had a movement devoted to it by itself. The 
 old man's part is suggested by telling what Wakeman heard and 
 did. It is the means used by Dickens in his celebrated passage 
 telling the death of Sydney Carton, at the close of " A Tale of 
 Two Cities."
 
 598 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 neath a tangle of underbrush an alligator lay, like a dead 
 log, baking in the rays. It was fully sixteen feet long 
 from tail to sknting head, and its brown back was caked 
 hard in scales with mud. The dull, fishy eyes, turned 
 toward him, were lidded ; the slimy snout was [half- 
 buried]^ in the tepid water which was cleared of oil, sev- 
 eral inches about, by its breathing. 
 
 153. He wondered that in the shriveling heat it was 
 not bobbing under the gloom of the arcade in some cool 
 pool of the river. He saw that its tough hide was stretched 
 to a roundness at the sides as if from overeating. 
 
 154. He swung the weighted handkerchief * out into 
 the stream. The oil-skin broke in a jagged rip and, with 
 a splash, bandanna and stone plumbed from sight. 
 
 155. The bloated 'gator never stirred. The film still 
 lidded its eyes. It was in a coma from gormandizing. A 
 sudden suspicion impinged on Wake's brain. Whom had 
 it eaten? Quite distinctly he recalled the splash as of a 
 leaping fish he had heard the night before. 
 
 156. He strode out of the lianas along the bank. 
 " Jestis-Maria ! " he called to the dead huts. Then again. 
 
 157. The old man appeared in the doorway of his 
 crackling hovel. Wake motioned him. The brown bent 
 form crawled, like a lizard, through the sunlight. 
 
 158. The white man indicated the yellow flag knotted 
 
 158-163. Management to create suspense. Although we foresee 
 what is coming, we are not quite certain. The suspense is effec- 
 tively prolonged as action proceeds through 164-172. This con- 
 
 » MS : was buried 
 
 * MS : handkercbief through the coilers out
 
 Tropics 599 
 
 to the taut rope and draggling just above the notch at the 
 base of the lofty palm. 
 
 159. " Run it up, Jesus-Maria," he said. 
 
 160. The old man blinked from him to the flag and 
 from the flag to him. 
 
 161. " But, senor" he said, " we have no dead." 
 
 162. " We soon will have," said Wake, a certain metal- 
 lic rasp in his voice. " Run up that flag ! " 
 
 163. The old man jumped as Wake's voice exploded. 
 His hand reached out for the rope. It was shaking as 
 with ague. The saffron symbol of death danced in leaps 
 and jerks up through the shimmering heat toward the mo- 
 tionless tuft. 
 
 164. The white man drew the Colt's from the holster 
 at his hip and stepped toward the growths. Brushing them 
 aside, he took slow aim and fired. The cruel fleshy yel- 
 lowish-brown jaws of the 'gator yawned open. Its long 
 brown body lifted itself bodily into the air, then flapped 
 down, like a bursted balloon, half on the mud-bank, half 
 submerged in the oil-churned water. He had winged it in 
 the only vulnerable point on its hide — a death-shot in the 
 fleshy part of the neck behind the long slanting head. 
 
 165. He turned to the watchful old man at his back. 
 He glimpsed, as he did, eyes shifting and hostile peering 
 from screened doorways and apertures. 
 
 166. " Here," he said. " Get men. Cut it open." 
 
 167. The old man emitted a squeak through the side of 
 his withered mouth. The peering eyes took on the drab 
 
 stitutes anticipatory delay within the movement (S. S. M., 74: n.; 
 cf. S. S. M., 155 :n.). Par. 172 gives a moment of "final sus- 
 pense" (S. S. M., 74: n.), before the action moves on again 
 toward the climactic deed (188).
 
 coo Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 form of men who trooped, like brown lizards, out into tlie 
 stinging sunlight. There were many interchanged glances 
 — at the flag limp overhead, at the toothless old assistant, 
 at the alligator, at the lone white man. A nod from the 
 old man would set them on him like hounds unleashed. 
 He must have feared to start the action when I was- 
 coming. 
 
 1G8. I had been watching for the saffron standard. 
 For Wake's sake, I had been praying that it would not 
 show. Twelve hours more would lift the quarantine. I 
 had cayuca and cargadores in readiness. Instead of the 
 emblem of death, that flag might be the signal of dire 
 distress. 
 
 • 
 
 169. I took a paddle myself, despite the overwhelm- 
 ing heat. As we grounded on the blistered bank, the na- 
 tives had almost finished cutting the alligator open. It 
 lay on its back, its soft steaming belly to the sun. 
 
 170. Wake brushed them roughly aside. He withdrew 
 from it the crushed bones and black hank of hair of 
 the woman. He cast them into the bottom of the 
 cayuca. 
 
 171. "Shove off!" he called peremptorily to me. 
 " They're hiding the dead. Don't meddle. It's up to me. 
 I'll show them." 
 
 172. He strode over and with one jerk pulled down 
 the flag. I swept with my eyes the cluster of malignant 
 faces scowling at him. Decisively he had given his orders. 
 I shoved off and w^e skimmed, with a backward look, into 
 the melancholy shade of the leafy lattice-work. 
 
 173. Wake eyed steadily, for a long moment, the old 
 man blinking up at him. He heard the mutterings of
 
 Tropics 601 
 
 the men clustered behind the wizened form. He said quite 
 calmly : 
 
 174. " Eun up the flag, Jesus-Maria." 
 
 175. The old man huddled before his fellows and, save 
 for his fluttering lids, did not move. 
 
 176. " Run up the flag," Wake insisted. His voice 
 rang with metallic timbre. 
 
 177. " But serior, senor, we have no dead." 
 
 178. " We soon will have," said Wake. 
 
 179. The scene was much as before. Only the white 
 man's hand dropped on the automat.-butt. 
 
 180. " Jesus-Maria! " his lips cracked. " Run up that 
 flag!" 
 
 181. The old man blinked at the hand poised on the 
 bolstered pistol. His eyes flashed obliquely in thin gleam- 
 ing lines at the men gathered at his back. 
 
 182. They were riveted by the spectacle. Their eyes, 
 though snapping, were fascinated by that white man with 
 death in his hands who was standing all alone on the sput- 
 tering bank. One rush, and they could sweep him into the 
 stream ere the quick death-dealing firearm dropped more 
 than two. But not one took the lead. ISTot even the shifty- 
 eyed son. The lead meant sure death. 
 
 183. Wake lifted the pistol from the holster. 
 
 184. The old man slunk over to the base of the tree 
 and his hands took vibrating hold of the rope. The flam- 
 ing symbol crawled up foot by foot-fraction. 
 
 185. [His hands, of a sudden, dropped, as if palsied, to 
 his sides.] ^ The flag flared, half-way up. He blinked in 
 wild gleams at Wake. 
 
 ' MS : Then, on the sudden, the old man's hands dropped to his sides 
 as if palsied. The flag
 
 602 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 ISG. " Scnor," he cried, " for the love of Christ, 
 seiior " 
 
 187. '^ Up ! " Wake snapped. Ilis eyes glittered along 
 his extended arm. 
 
 188. The flag jerked in a frenzied dance to the tuft. 
 There was a sharp crack, muffled by the dead air. The 
 old man pitched outspread on his face in the clay at the 
 base of the tree. A convulsion shook the shriveled frame. 
 The second shot left him huddled and still. A trickle of 
 blood oozed from a pin-point puncture in his right temple. 
 
 189. The yellow * banner dropped with its own weight 
 and hung limp in the heat, half-way down. 
 
 190. Wake swung the still smoking weapon on the 
 cluster of men. 
 
 191. "Frontol" he yelled. "Quick! Into your 
 huts ! " 
 
 192. They scurried, like brown lizards, across the yel- 
 low grass and out of sight, save for their peering eyes. 
 
 193. I glimpsed, as I shot back, the prone huddled 
 form of the old man at the foot of the tree. We had been 
 within an ace of turning the bend, when, with the muffled 
 crack, I had seen the flag drop like a plummet from the 
 tuft. I sensed what had taken place. I sprang out, ere 
 we beached, and grasped Wake by the hand. I shook 
 hands with him. 
 
 194. " You're a white man," I said. 
 
 195. The deeply tanned skin of his face drew to the 
 bursting-point over the cheek-bones in a weary smile. 
 
 196. " It's fair torment ! " ° he said drearily. 
 
 194. The thesis of white supremacy is maintained throughout 
 the story; its practical utility and necessity being supported by 
 
 * MS : The saffron banner ^ MS : hell 
 
 i
 
 Tropics 603 
 
 V. 
 
 197. A strange, ominous tattoo far off down the sky 
 aroused Wake from staring vacantly after us. It was like 
 the roll of a monstrous drum. He looked across the river 
 and over the tall palm-tufts of the dense jungle on the 
 other bank, beheld a black mass of clouds rolling and 
 tumbling in a race up the blazing vault. He made for the 
 hut. A tropical storm was afoot which would cleanse the 
 pestilence from the land. 
 
 198. A wisp of wind, faint and velvety, fanned like a 
 tonic through his parched body. As he swung the bamboo 
 
 experience wherever the whites carry civilization among backward 
 colored races, to conceive a story involving such race relationships 
 is practically impossible, with truth to experience, without assum- 
 ing this thesis. The fact that our author expressly emphasizes it 
 may be explained by another fact. In this " epic of Wakeman's 
 llife," the recalling of Wakeman to the white man's ideals and 
 characteristic conduct in the situation unfolded by the story, 
 requires some exceeding strong human motive (e.g., race pride), 
 and to show his rehabilitation requires of him a manifestation of 
 such force and brutality of mastership; the ultimate justice or 
 morality of it are not involved in a technical criticism. The atti- 
 tude and conduct of Faulkner and Wakeman could not, under the 
 conditions assumed for this story, be other than they are rejDre- 
 sented and remain true to the prevailing facts of experience; see 
 S. S. M., 90 : 10-11. Other instances of the decisiveness and force- 
 fulness that accompany this mastery have been noted; but see 
 passim. 
 
 196. Reminds us that the romantic element of Wakeman's char- 
 acter is still at war with the race characteristics and traditions 
 now dominating him. 
 
 197. The final movement begins. — In considering the reason for 
 introducing the storm now described, we must remember the title 
 of the story — " Tropics." One of the purposes that gave the 
 story birth was, to make us realize somewhat the aspects, the 
 nature, and thb problems of the tropics (see the opening and the 
 end of the story). In one sense, therefore, the story is a
 
 604 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 door to and shot the wooden bolt, the second breath of 
 wind, a swirling gust, smote tho harrio. The hut shook 
 to its clay flooring, the bamboo Avails gave pliantly, and 
 the thatch of the roof lifted plumb into the air. He saw, 
 between the spaces, the clouds flocking up in black pha- 
 lanxes. Flakes of tinder-rot, fine as gem-dust, spattered 
 down and from one, on the cot, a furry gray-black taran- 
 tula wriggled, then scampered across the room and back 
 up the wall. 
 
 199. Outside, as he closed the window aperture, he saw 
 the air filled with 'stecn-foot leaves, flayed from the tufts 
 
 panorama or spectacular drama of the tropical canal zone — a fact 
 that accounts for the unusually large proportion of intensifying 
 matter introduced. — Integration (S. S. M., 166:23) has been ac- 
 complished with much skill; first, by making Wakeman the cen- 
 tral person (with Faulkner serving somewhat as a foil), and 
 second, by weaving together a succession of episodes each so vivid 
 or intense that we overlook the exti'eme simplicity and scantiness 
 of plot as distinguished from developing incident. Examine this 
 further. The working-plot is this : 
 
 1. A government agent finds a white man living in degrada- 
 tion among uncivilized natives, and contrives to make this man 
 assume responsibility for the welfare of his village while a pest 
 is raging. 
 
 2. The man obeys his old ideals and enforces his race standards 
 of civilization, though at the cost of a terrible struggle, in the 
 course of which he tragically slays his own loved wife ; but though 
 he prevails in the immediate struggle, ultimately the tropics pre- 
 vail over him, and he perishes. All the rest is developing, ampli- 
 fying, and intensifying incident and detail. But the stors' is so 
 managed and integrated that we get it as a consistent and impres- 
 sive whole, in which are further brought before us clearly: 
 (1) the spiritual struggle in Wakeman; (2) an impressive 
 panorama of tropical conditions and environment; (3) the differ- 
 ence between the white man and his civilization and the semi- 
 barbarian mongrel of the tropics; (4) the problems of command 
 and government that face those who introduce civilization into 
 the jungle, and the means by which control must at first be estab-
 
 Tropics . 605 
 
 and hurtling stem-on for the hut, sheer dead weights. The 
 lofty, lithe palms were tossing tufts to and fro, and twist- 
 ing and snapping like whip-cords, and bending tense as 
 bows to earth. He could hear from all about the dull 
 thudding of cocoanuts. He saw that the oil coat of the 
 fretted river had been swept, as by some gigantic hand, to 
 the bank. 
 
 200. The scorched grass of the roof, with a metallic 
 click, settled back. A gloom, thick and sweltering and 
 breathless, fell ere dusk like a pall over the land. The 
 world stood still, waiting. 
 
 201. A rap resounded from the roof. Another and 
 another. They were nodules of warm moisture, huge and 
 heavy as bullets. Then came the rain, a deluge, a flood — 
 a solid, slanting sheet of water that chuted drops like peb- 
 bles down in unbroken streams. The river, the huts, the 
 tossing jungle were blotted out. The whole globe was a 
 leaden slant of water. 
 
 lished. It is doubtful that any other story in the present col- 
 lection, except " An Epilogue," presented so intricate and trying 
 a task of integration; for the simple reason that this story 
 contains so gTeat a number of different elements and details re- 
 quiring adjustment, subordination, emphasis, and consistent com- 
 bination one with another and all with one another to serve 
 the many subordinate purposes involved in the main purpose of 
 the author. 
 
 197-209. The episode contains (197-201) the description of the 
 storm, and (202-209) the incident of the suspicious call. Look 
 over the other episodes of the story ; how many of them consist of 
 a similar combination of description (or exposition) and action? 
 S. S. M., 80 : 3-7 and 152 : 2-5. Note that, as the turbulence 
 of the action (inner and outer) increases, the aspects of nature 
 selected as accompaniments also grow turbulent, thus con- 
 tributing to unity of setting, mood, and tone ; S. S. M., 178-189, 
 esp. 18G:13. — Here and in the following passages, point out all 
 that contributes to heightened interest (suspense — S. S. M., 249).
 
 606 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 202. Out iu the tumult of elements a vague form de- 
 tached itself from a hut. Bending low to the gummy 
 ground to avoid being brained by a winging leaf, he made 
 through the terrific downpour for Wake's hovel. He was 
 the son of the dead assistant. 
 
 203. A baby was dying of the fever in his hut, he said. 
 It was the youngest of the family of seven. Would the 
 senor come ? 
 
 204. The white man searched the deeps of the shifting 
 eyes of the saturated figure before him. He suspected 
 treachery. Treachery he feared. It would be like their 
 mongrel blood on a night like that — the subtile craftiness 
 of the Spanish, the deadly rancor of the Indian, the bloody 
 ferocity of the negro in them. His chin bit forward. He 
 would go. He buckled on belt and holster. He reached 
 for his Stetson. 
 
 205. His wife glided softly to him and laid a gently 
 restraining hand on his arm. She was afraid. She 
 wanted him with her that raging night. She was womanly- 
 weak. Also, there was a terrifying dizziness in her head 
 and her ears were buzzing as with the drone of a multi- 
 tude of mosquitoes. She attributed it to an overdose of 
 quinin. Secretly, she feared worse. But all she said 
 was: 
 
 206. " Don't go, caro mio." 
 
 207. He smiled down at her cooing mouth, into her 
 liquid black eyes. He lifted her dimpled brown baby- 
 hand from his sleeve. He shook his head at her as at a 
 naughty child. 
 
 208. " ISTo, no, chiquita. I must." 
 
 209. She moved back. She watched him, love and 
 helplessness moist in her swimming eyes. 
 
 i
 
 Tropics 607 
 
 210. He stepped with the native out into the gloomy 
 cataract of waters. The man led, stooping far forward 
 over the silt. Wake took firm hold with left hand of the 
 dripping end of the other's camisa. He would not risk 
 losing his guide in that storm. In his right hand was the 
 automat, loaded and ready for quick work. 
 
 211. A vague shadow followed them through the ob- 
 scuring sheet. It was Wake's golden wife. A double fear 
 was at her throat — fear for his safety and nameless fear 
 of that whirling in her head. 
 
 212. They knew it not. They could not see her through 
 the solid dusk and streams, nor she them. 
 
 213. The report proved true. The poor little baby 
 was shriveled horribly with the fever. Wake, wet as he 
 was through and through, did what he could. He in- 
 structed them, if it lived, to bring it to the sick-ward in 
 the morning. He could not part it on that night from its 
 wailing mother. He penetrated once more into the hurly- 
 burly of elements. 
 
 214. Once back in the hut, he missed his wife. Fear ^ 
 crept into his skull and coiled tight around his chilled 
 
 211. See 33, 58, 74, and note the author's practice of recalling 
 to our mind at intervals significant facts by such brief items of 
 naiTation. Pars. 211 and 215 contain the first hints of the 
 approaching end. We shall soon discover that development of 
 the struggle came to an end in 172-196, and the decisive moment 
 — Wakeman's conclusive act of mastery as the agent of civiliza- 
 tion — was that in which he administered justice on the traitor 
 Jesus-Maria (emphasized by 193-194). For artistic purposes, 
 his redemption is now accomplished and his work established, 
 for he has shown himself a white man and " seared the mastery 
 of the white on their dark souls." The falling action therefore 
 begins at 197, with the storm as its setting — a prelude to the 
 catastrophe — and the present episode is the beginning of the end. 
 
 ' MS : Fear snailed into
 
 G08 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 brains. Fear for bcr. Fear for her life in that avalanche 
 of niiij;hty forces outside. Fear of the mongrel men and 
 their hideous forms of treachery, of torture. 
 
 215. lie pulled his Stetson down over his eyes to 
 emerge in search into the inky tempest once again. As 
 he did, he shuddered in every nerve-center from head to 
 foot. It was a shivering- fit. It presaged the fever. He 
 sank with a groan back * upon the cot. " My Heaven ! " ^ 
 he said. " Have I got it ? " 
 
 216. He swallowed grain after grain of quinin. He 
 rose from the cot to leave. It was a struggle. A hot wave 
 seemed to singe every tissue and fiber of his frame. Fol- 
 lowed an icy chill. His brains giddied round, from the 
 fever and the drug, as if ® the forces catapulting outside 
 were whirling them in the brain-pan of his head. 
 
 217. He took a determined step toward the door. As 
 he did, he lost all sense of balance. He pitched back full- 
 length upon the cot. The automat, dropped from his limp 
 fingers and thudded to the couch beside him. The while 
 the rain hurtled down with great brooding patience, drown- 
 ing jungle and clearing and thundering upon the roof of 
 the hut, he lay beneath in a state of lethargy, burning and 
 icing by turns. 
 
 218. He roused from the torpor, how many hours later 
 
 218. The climactic height of the story. RecalHng Wakeman's 
 love for his jungle wife — the deeper for his romantic tempera- 
 ment — and his weakened character, we can feel how great the 
 catastrophe is in his life. From this we realize the preparatory 
 function of the passages we have noted earlier, indicating this love 
 between the two. 
 
 * MS : sank back, with a groan, upon 
 5 MS : God 
 
 • MS : as though
 
 Teopics 609 
 
 he knew not. His brains ran sluggishly with feverish 
 drowsiness. Yet a sense of danger weighed on his soul 
 like the leaden fever on his body. All about him it was 
 black — thick, inky black. The night boomed like a huge 
 gong with the stupendous downpour. His pulse, with sud- 
 den fear, gushed like mighty combers in his ears. A pro- 
 longed dull scrunch-scrunch from the clay floor, quite dis- 
 tinct against the monotonous pour of the rain, was the 
 cause. It sounded as if something was pulling itself with 
 weary effort toward him. 
 
 219. Terrible horror iced every nerve of him. It was 
 like the chill clutch of paralysis. He could not move. 
 Only his dizzy brains could move. They ^ flashed and 
 flared with thoughts of natives, of machetes, of mutterings 
 and eyes, furtive and malignant. They had come for him. 
 
 220. A rasping hiccup, hiccup, like someone retching 
 or sobbing, shattered the vise-grip of horror. Madly he 
 shouted. He sat bolt upright in the dark. His fingers 
 closed over the butt of the automat. 
 
 221. He sensed the outline of a vague form on the floor. 
 It was blacker than the dark. It was crouched. 
 
 222. A pencil of flame spat out. A sharp, cruel crack 
 and two screams burst the membrane of his ears. One 
 was awful. It was his own. The fiber of bullet-light had 
 shown him his mistake. Ghastly mistake. Irretrievable. 
 He had killed the thing he loved. 
 
 223. * The sun, heavy and swollen, rose in a dye-blue 
 
 223-237. The closing episode. Note the effect of desolation — 
 physical, in the storm-wracked, abandoned huts; spiritual, in 
 Wakeman's loss of the one human tie he had on earth. 
 
 * MS : His dizzy brains flashed 
 
 * The chapter number VI is here given in the MS.
 
 (310 Today's Siioet Stoeies Analyzed 
 
 sky. The rain had ceased abruptly as it had started. The 
 feverish rays were «^iieking up the water that had cas- 
 caded through the iiight.^ 
 
 224. I saw that the lofty signal-palm had withstood the 
 squall. Its stripped scanty tuft bobbed in the middle of the 
 shimmering mist. As I looked for it, I saw the yellow flag 
 zig-zag to the top." I launched the cayuca and with my 
 two cargadores coursed beneath the thick, dripping arcade 
 up the ^ yellow stream to Wake. 
 
 225. We rounded the jagged spur and beached far in 
 on the bank — a bloody cesspool of mud deeply furrowed 
 with drains that ran yellow. But despite the flag drag- 
 gling overhead, no body lay outstretched in the silt. No 
 sign of life was visible. The barrio was dead. It lay like 
 a great drab steaming caldron before us. The roof of 
 one hut hung off an edge, the bamboo door of another had 
 fallen outward. About, the flayed palms drip-dripped 
 liquid ooze upon the black-green undergrowth. Otherwise, 
 nothing stirred in the humid stillness. It was depressing. 
 Unbearable. I shouted. 
 
 226. K^ot a peering eye showed from the dead huts. I 
 set one of the cargadores to searching the village for the 
 natives. With the other, I made across the spongy ground 
 and disheveled grass for Wake's hovel. Again I shouted. 
 I saw that the door of it was closed. 
 
 227. As we drew near, suddenly it snapped open. 
 Out into the mist-cloaked sunlight, in his arms the mud- 
 died form of the jungle woman, strode Wakeman. His 
 brown eyes were deep-sunken. The high cheek-bones 
 
 " MS : night, to hoard it up for days and weeks, then belch it down 
 again. 
 
 « MS : top. The huge leaf over which the rope had been noosed had 
 remained intact. I launched 
 
 ' MS : the bloated yellow stream 
 
 I
 
 Tkopics 611 
 
 seemed bursting through the saffron parchment of 
 skin. 
 
 228. He waved us aside. He splashed through the 
 mire and tenderly laid his dead in the bottom of the 
 cayuca. He strode over to the signal-palm and with one 
 jerk shot the flag down to the notch. 
 
 229. The cargador who had been ransacking the huts 
 floundered through the mud and grass, a withered baby's 
 corpse in his arms. The pitiful little body was all that 
 was left of the natives in the harrio. They had taken to 
 the dripping jungle. I placed the shriveled form beside 
 the golden woman's. 
 
 230. I started with Wake to finish the rounds of the 
 hovels. I said not a word to him, nor he to me. The 
 cargadores I had sent with the dead down the river to the 
 burying-ground. As we flung our legs wide apart through 
 the water-soaked ground, I saw Wake reel and citcli him- 
 self. I looked at him. His lips were drawn tight to the 
 cracking point over his teeth. 
 
 231. '' I killed her," he said abruptly, as he felt my 
 eyes upon him. 
 
 232. I nodded. I could fathom the rest. I did not 
 want him to tell me. I wanted him to forget. I thought 
 it was for the best that she was dead. N'ow nothing 
 bound him to his old life. He was a white man. 
 
 233. I made into a dark hut. Inside, I turned expect- 
 ing to find Wake at my heels. He was clutching the jamb 
 of the door. Even as I looked, he pulled himself up. He 
 
 229. " Golden woman." Gradually the name has passed over 
 from a description of the outer to a description of the inner per- 
 son. What is gained by thus idealizing Wakeman's jungle mate 
 on the spiritual side?
 
 G12 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 turned from inc. lie staggered through the mire toward 
 the signal-pabn. 
 
 234. I was out of the hut and after him. The flag was 
 part way up ere I gripped his arm. 
 
 235. " Wake," I said, " we have no dead." 
 
 236 " We soon will have," said he. In his voice, for 
 the first time, Avas a certain note of satisfaction.^ 
 
 237. That night, Wakeman went with his dead. 
 
 238. The cigarettes were pasted dead on our lips. The 
 ghost-lights were winking out in the velvety dark. 
 
 239. " That's the epic of Wakeman's life," said Faulk- 
 
 236. A touch of the Anglo-Saxon stoic fatalism and at the 
 same time of that deep and intense romanticism that is also an ele- 
 ment of the Anglo-Saxon character — therefore a final touch of 
 race characterization as well as of chai'acterization of the man 
 himself. S. S. M., 208 : 2, (211 : 4) . (Query : whether Wakeman 
 offers enough appealing individual traits to gain our strong sym- 
 pathy, or lacks these enough to be somewhat a puppet-person? 
 Consider the details edited out of the original MS., to be found 
 here in the footnotes.) 
 
 238-239. The distinct ending; it is philosophical in content. 
 Both paragraphs are in the mood of the falhng action — 238 con- 
 veying through objective details the impression left on the group 
 who had been hearing the story; 239 striking, as if it were one 
 complex chord in music, the dominant notes that made the theme 
 of the composition. — Taking the author's division of his story into 
 parts, as indicated by his lettering, we have: Part (I) correspond- 
 ing to " the stirring dawn and the listless indolence of the 
 meridian"; here mentioned; (II), (III), and (IV) corresponding 
 to "the brief exhilaration of eventide"; (V) corresponding to 
 " night, black, breathing, elemental." Evidently, therefore, he 
 did not mean these lettered divisions to correspond closely with 
 the summary given in this last paragraph. — Note that the keynote 
 struck in par. 1 is echoed in par. 239. If among all the notes 
 struck in between, in the story, there are any that do not har- 
 
 « MS : He had it. That night Wakeman
 
 Tropics 613 
 
 ner. " It's like the tropics. Stirring dawn, the listless 
 indolence of meridian, the brief exhilaration of eventide, 
 and then night, black, breathing, elemental — full of the 
 nameless. It fills me with awe, that story. Just like the 
 tropics. It is incomprehensible, profound, utter." 
 
 monize with these, I have overlooked them. But though for 
 atmosphere and local color the story has never lost its appeal 
 to me, I could wish that Wakeman as a person seemed less a 
 puppet and thrilled me a little more as a human being; see n. 
 239. Comparison of the variant readings with the printed ver- 
 sion, however, will show that some effectively humanizing details 
 concerning Wakeman have been lost.
 
 UNTO EACH HIS CEOWN 
 
 The Story as a Whole 
 
 1. A theme-story, strongly reinforced with atmosphere 
 (subjective coloring), and notably simple and clear in its 
 expression. It can be profitably studied as an example of 
 restraint and simplicity in treatment (S. S. M., 67:18; 
 p. 253 How can; and index, Economy). 
 
 2. In structural conception it is a conte that presents 
 the climactic height and outcome only; see S. S. M., pp. 
 15-18; 74: 6 B, C, D; 168: 25-27. The beginning of 
 the action and the rising action lie in the past, in the 
 mental and spiritual struggle of the young soldier to com- 
 prehend the conflict between war and the ideals of human- 
 ized man. His being wounded is merely one of the de- 
 veloping incidents of this plot of spiritual action, bringing 
 on the climactic moment of death and conclusive compre- 
 hension (or vision). All these matters are sufficiently in- 
 dicated in the exposition distributed through the story. 
 The narrative itself centers in this climactic moment of 
 clarified vision of consummated sacrifice. 
 
 3. This story affords a good study-example of emo- 
 tional appeal ; see S. S. M., 63 :14. On atmosphere, see 
 S. S. M., pp. 56-58 and passim. 
 
 4. The narrative is also a helpful example of psycho- 
 logical narration (S. S. M., 50:15; 228:15) objectively 
 achieved. 
 
 5. Finally, the story is another illustration of the 
 power of the conte to interpret life from fundamental 
 view-points. See S. S. M., pp. 194-198 ; 179 : 3 ; pp. 1-3 ; 
 4:9; 5:11. 
 
 614
 
 UNTO EACH HIS CROWN ^ 
 
 By Norma Patterson 
 
 Reprinted by Permission of the Author and the Editors from "The 
 
 Bookman" (New York) for May, 1918. 
 
 Copyrighted, 1918, by the George H. Doran Company. 
 
 1. For a long time after he opened his eyes he lay 
 quite still looking at the wall, which was where his glance 
 happened to hit. A luxury of comfort possessed his body 
 and mind — a light, serene, smoothly-running happiness 
 which was like spinning evenly through cool, green, white- 
 flecked waters, after kicking and strangling and puffing 
 in learning to swim. So for a time that might have been 
 short and might have been long, he lay without moving, 
 his mind going neither backward nor forward, but rest- 
 ing contentedly on the strangely happy present. 
 
 2. Across the wall a shadow moved, and paused, and 
 passed on, ducking and bobbing as it went. He knew 
 that the nurse was moving about, and the shadow — 
 absurdly undignified — was made by the flimsy unstable 
 sputter of a candle. Again it passed, and again. At first 
 the edges were sharply cut and individualistic, but now he 
 saw them blur and fade against the drab wall. The image 
 was slipping back into the vastness of unlimited shadow, 
 from which, for the sputtering length of a candle, it had 
 snatched itself. 
 
 1 This story is one of three under the title " War Echoes," edited 
 by Edward J. O'Brien, and published in "The Bookman," for May, 
 1918. 
 
 615
 
 GIG Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 3. Gray light crept in through the little window above 
 his cot. The slender, far-reaching notes of a bugle called 
 to the coming day. 
 
 4. His body did not move, but his spirit stood upright 
 at the summons. The sound had jerked open the door of 
 memory. 
 
 5. His regiment! Would he be able to go back — and 
 fight with the boys? It had been hard, having to leave 
 them when he did. They were out of the trenches and 
 charging. It was just at the apex of the attack — the mo- 
 ment for which his whole life seemed to have been lived. 
 All the training, all the hardship), all the parting with 
 loved ones, all the long, tedious life in the trenches — had 
 led to this one supreme moment. And then, just as they 
 plunged forward into the shout and ring of victory, some- 
 thing had happened. He was not sure at first what, ex- 
 cept that it halted him, spun him round, and he felt him- 
 self sinking downward — downward — and the others 
 charging on, leaving him there. He was going to miss it ! 
 He would not be in at the victory ! Later, when they 
 told of it around the camp at night, he would have no 
 part in the telling. 
 
 6. He saw Trav Barnes look back, and he saw the ex- 
 pression that came on Trav's face. An expression that 
 could not be put into words or even imagined unless one 
 had seen it. Trav stopped abruptly, but he had waved 
 Trav on, and Trav had gone — running forward as if he 
 were running away from looking back. And the tramp 
 of the feet had grow^n fainter . . . and the sound of 
 the shouting fainter . . . and the boom of the battle 
 fainter. . . . 
 
 7. Yes, he must be getting back to the regiment. He
 
 Unto Each His Ckown 617 
 
 could not be wounded so badlj — he was blissfully free 
 from pain. 
 
 8. He turned his head slowly. The candle had 
 burned down to a feeble, spasmodic flame. In the light 
 from the window he made out the nurse and the doctor, 
 talking together. He was a bit afraid of what they would 
 tell him, and so he hesitated to put his question. Then he 
 got in behind his courage and gave it a great boost. 
 
 9. " Will I be able to rejoin the regiment — soon ? " 
 
 10. The words dropped, one at a time, into the silence 
 with halting, staccato emphaticness, and seemed to stand 
 in the air just where he placed them, in an inquisitive 
 little row. 
 
 11. The doctor and the nurse turned and gazed at 
 them. The doctor moved forward and sat down on the 
 bed. He had thought at first that it was an army surgeon, 
 but he saw now it was the Old Doctor from his home 
 town. 
 
 12. " Yes," nodded the Old Doctor, " soon — you will 
 be joining your regiment." 
 
 13. He was so overwhelmed with joy at this that he 
 was not surprised when the strange thing happened. War 
 had leveled all shocks. There was left no possibility of 
 further high emotion to one who had had to grow used 
 to standing, now with friends, and — now — among the 
 dead. 
 
 14. And so he felt only very glad and very thankful 
 to see, here in an alien country, all his dear family step 
 quietly into the span of light about his head, and stand 
 smiling down at him. He counted heads carefully twice 
 and found that not one was missing. 
 
 15. There were his father and mother, their arms
 
 618 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 about each other ; and Becky, his schoolgirl sister, fresh 
 from the world of basket-ball and laughter; there was 
 John, his older brother, who had had to stay behind. He 
 recalled how John had shadowed him during that last 
 month at home; with what brooding absorption John had 
 inspected his kit, and his rifle, and every part of the khaki 
 uniform, and had said, a little bitterly, as he grasped his 
 hand at the last, " It's the great adventure. Kid. Lord, 
 how I envy you." And there was The Girl her beautiful 
 eyes wide, her lips parted, her hand reaching out toward 
 him. 
 
 16. It must be some special occasion to bring them 
 here. He wondered what. 
 
 17. He remembered the same little group standing on 
 the platform to bid him good-by when he went to college. 
 They were grieved at the parting, but they were proud. 
 They had smiled and smiled through their tears. He had 
 worn a new suit that day — a rather natty affair he 
 thought — and his mother had slipped some cookies in his 
 new pocket. He was half ashamed of her doing it, as if 
 he were still a kid and liked cookies. But later, in the 
 train, behind a newspaper, how good the cookies had 
 tasted ! 
 
 18. And when he sailed for France the same group 
 had gathered again to see him off. They had stood in the 
 sweltering sun all one morning just for a chance to wave 
 as the big boat slipped down the harbor. They had smiled 
 and smiled through their tears. They were here now, 
 smiling at him through their tears, and — he had the vague 
 feeling — seeing him off somewhere. There was grief on 
 their faces — but they were proud ! It was fine of them to 
 come.
 
 Unto Each His Ckown" 619 
 
 19. It did not seem at all queer when a head vanished 
 from among those about him, and then another, and 
 another. They did not hop off or bounce away, but glided 
 vaporously from sight in a perfectly logical manner ; until 
 all the heads were gone except his mother's and his 
 father's, leaning close together, their eyes on his, smiling 
 still — smiling their love. It was like a picture he had of 
 them that sat in an ivory frame on his table back home. 
 And when these two had gone there was only the touch of 
 the Old Doctor's hand, resting reassuringly over his. 
 
 20. The gTay mist of morning closed in about him like 
 a cloud, and it seemed to be carrying him along with it. 
 . . . He lost the touch of the Old Doctor's hand — and 
 with it the heaviness of his body — of his mind. And he 
 perceived now that he was standing on a hill in the first 
 strange light of a new day. 
 
 21. Behind him, out of the foggy distance, he caught 
 the thin wavering outline of a bugle-call . . . and the 
 shadowy tramp, tramp, of feet. . . . He looked back, 
 and saw them coming. A vast moving army — marching 
 toward him, coming along with him. As far back as he 
 could see they were coming. 
 
 22. They were a strange company — a litle torn, thor- 
 oughly ragged. Many of them were just boys like him- 
 self. Caps and coats were missing, and — they carried no 
 weapons! And as much as they had loved and honored 
 the uniforms they wore, he saw that the uniform no longer 
 mattered. 
 
 23. He had thought, when they came into sight, that 
 it was his old regiment. Many, many of them were here. 
 But as they drew nearer he recognized French and Eng- 
 lish and Italians and — could it be? — Germans. He was
 
 620 Today's Short Stories Analyzed 
 
 a little shocked to see how his comrades hailed these as 
 comrade, and that their journey lay together. 
 
 24. On they came. The music grew louder, the 
 tramping heavier. Here and there were friends — boys 
 from his home town. Why, there was Trav! With a 
 shout he stumbled forward ; the friends grasped hands, 
 and he swung into step. 
 
 25. There was a lightness about the marching of this 
 radiant army that had nothing to do with feet or bodies, 
 but seemed to come from what they saw forward. Their 
 heads were. thrown back, their faces shone. It was as if 
 to each, no matter what the nationality, victory had come. 
 
 26. During the long, muddy hours of waiting before 
 the battle, there had been moments of troubled thought — 
 thought of what was right and what was wrong. The 
 grim Why and Whither of War had stalked with clanking 
 steel up and down the trenches, among the fallen bodies. 
 Beneath the rain of shells one thought of peace as some- 
 thing that would come some day — that must come — but 
 it was impossible to conceive any connection between that 
 unthinkable time and this hideous carnage. 
 
 27. But as he looked into the faces of these he saw 
 what that shining look was. It came to him as a sweep- 
 ing revelation. They understood ! For them the veil was 
 lifted — and they saw peace! 
 
 28. They had passed up through the Gate of the Ulti- 
 mate Sacrifice — into immortality. They had laid down 
 their lives for love of country, and the reward was peace 
 for the world. Not just the ceasement of war, but that 
 perpetual peace born of universal brotherhood. 
 
 29. Then — this was the victory! And he was in! 
 He was in at the victory !
 
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