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28
MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE
factory that made anything but multitudinous returns, to a belief that the flowers exhaled rare perfume. And she wandered, herself, in Elysian fields, worlds apart from the one drearily destitute room. The bright, particular figure about which she constructed her rainbow dreams was that of Arline Wade. To the child, fast leaving childhood's shore, the gentle voice and velvet touch of the young
ARLINE VISITS HER BLIND FRIEND IN QUEST OF A STORY
authoress were like stars shining from an impalpable dark. She was dreaming of her, while her thin, deft fingers twisted the pretty artifices, as the door opened gently and Arline looked in.
"May I enter?" she queried humbly, with that invariable courtesy that had won her the hearts of her less favored brethren.
" Oh — yes — yes, indeed — please! " Nell's ecstatic voice rang out before Margaret had time to rise.
' ' No, dont get me a chair, Margy — I'm restless — and I'd rather stand.
You've got to help me — write a story!" She sat on the edge of Nell's chair, as she finished, and lifted up the long, silken curls tenderly. Margaret, a slender, tired-faced girl of twenty, laughed deprecatingly. "You'll not find much story-telling in us, Miss Arline," she said; "we haven't time in the day, and we're too tired at night. Barick Street dont boast of many stories, I 'm afraid. ' '
"Ah, but it does!" Arline patted Nell 's shoulders and went around to Margaret; "it boasts of many, many stories, Margaret. Didn 't you know that most of my recent ones have come straight from Barick Street — some of them from this very room? Surely you 've known that ? ' '
Margaret flushed uncomfortably. She did not like to say that her weary eyes refused stubbornly to follow the print at night and that many of the magazines were still unread. Arline perceived the flush and fathomed the cause. She waived the subject, turning again to Nell, who was sitting momentarily idle, face flushed in thought. "Well, Nellie," she teased, " has your young brain woven me a story out of whole cloth ? ' ' The child raised an eager face to the beloved voice. "Miss Arline/' she said, a bit breathlessly, "cant you really think of a single, solitary story ? ' ' "I really can't."
"Would you do — 'most anything — to think of one?"
"I'd take desperate, piratical measures, Nellie," grimly 'affirmed Miss Wade.
The child drew a long breath. "Would you — be Mind?" she hissed, with unmeant dramatics.
"Blind?" Arline looked incredulous.
"Oh, not truly blind, you know —