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It was a pathetic, a tragic letter, the letter of a woman endeavouring to express all the anguish of a torn heart with one of those fountain-pens which suspend the flow of ink about twice in every three words. The gist of it was that she felt she had wronged him; that, though he might forgive, he could never forget; and that she was going away, away out into the world alone.
Indeed, he often wonders if anybody ever reads his writings, because he knows that his best friends never do. But very soon this tender sentiment is disrupted. There comes a sudden resurrection of the rocking-chair brigade, a rush of readers with uplifted fountain-pens, and a general request for the author's autograph upon the flyleaf of his volume.
He was on his way somewhere, I imagine." Clayton sat silent. Then he took out his fountain-pen and surveyed it with a smile. "Rather off fountain-pens for a time, I take it!" observed Dunbar. "Well, I've something else for you. You've got one of the best little I.W.W. workers in the country right here in your mill. Some of them aren't so bad hot air and nothing else. But this fellow's a fanatic.
"Or words to that effect! Too bad they changed that newspaper story of yours." "Yes." "It put a crimp in him." "How do you mean?" "He had some California capitalists tuned up to put in three million dollars, but when they read that our plan was impracticable their fountain-pens refused to work." "Oh!" Eliza gasped, faintly. Slater regarded her curiously, then shook his head.
Laura, who does the locals, pressed her forehead closer to the pane to watch the girls hurrying past on their way to the tennis tournament on the campus. Adele and Jo, the literaries, nibbled their fountain-pens.
Over the bulge of an egg-shaped stomach hung a massive gold watch-chain blossoming into a semi-heraldic charm, which might be a masonic emblem or a cycling club badge. His breastpocket appeared to hold a quiverful of fountain-pens. "How do you do, Mrs. Harrington? I am pleased to meet you." The voice was high and squeaky, like a boy's voice when it is breaking.
But he did not get up at once, and we turned to the fountain-pens. "Any nib," he said, "crossed ever so, I could mend it. Kep' the books too; we was always stocktaking." Now I think of it, fountain-pen shops always are stocktaking. They do it all down the Strand, with big red labels across the front.
"That's just what I did, young man, and if you doubt it, here's my pension that I drew to-day in town, twelve dollars a month, and they've paid it now these thirty-four years." "That's a pretty soft thing," said the commercial man. "Better'n selling fountain-pens in the backwoods." "A soft thing!" cried the old man, "I ought to have twice as much.
The thermometer dropped at once below freezing-point, and the dense mists, driven against us by the hurricane, formed icicles on our blistered faces, and froze the ink in our fountain-pens. Our summer clothing was wholly inadequate for such an unexpected experience; we were chilled to the bone. To have remained where we were would have been jeopardizing our health, if not our lives.
On the other hand, many mediocre authors, exercising the most complete sincerity, find ample appreciation in the vast mediocrity of the public, and are never troubled by any problem worse than the vagaries of their fountain-pens. Such authors enjoy in plenty the gewgaw known as happiness.
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