Ronicky Doone | Page 8

how to use myself for company when I got tired of solitaire. So I sat down and wrote to this here correspondence school and says: 'I want to do something interesting. How d'you figure that I had better begin?' And what d'you think they answered back?"
"I dunno," said Ronicky, his interest steadily increasing.
"Well, sir, the first thing they wrote back was: 'We have your letter and think that in the first place you had better learn how to write.' That was a queer answer, wasn't it?"
"It sure was." Ronicky swallowed a smile.
"Every time I looked at that letter it sure made me plumb mad. And I looked at it a hundred times a day and come near tearing it up every time. But I didn't," continued Bill.
"Why not?"
"Because it was a woman that wrote it. I told by the hand, after a while!"
"A woman? Go on, Bill. This story sure sounds different from most."
"It ain't even started to get different yet," said Bill gloomily. "Well, that letter made me so plumb mad that I sat down and wrote everything I could think of that a gent would say to a girl to let her know what I thought about her. And what d'you think happened?"
"She wrote you back the prettiest letter you ever seen," suggested Ronicky, "saying as how she'd never meant to make you mad and that if you--"
"Say," broke in Bill Gregg, "did I show that letter to you?"
"Nope; I just was guessing at what a lot of women would do. You see?"
"No, I don't. I could never figure them as close as that. Anyway that's the thing she done, right enough. She writes me a letter that was smooth as oil and suggests that I go on with a composition course to learn how to write."
"Going to have you do books, Bill?"
"I ain't a plumb fool, Ronicky. But I thought it wouldn't do me no harm to unlimber my pen and fire out a few words a day. So I done it. I started writing what they told me to write about, the things that was around me, with a lot of lessons about how you can't use the same word twice on one page, and how terrible bad it is to use too many passive verbs."
"What's a passive verb, Bill?"
"I didn't never figure it out, exactly. However, it seems like they're something that slows you up the way a muddy road slows up a hoss. And then she begun talking about the mountains, and then she begun asking--
"About you!" suggested Ronicky with a grin.
"Confound you," said Bill Gregg. "How come you guessed that?"
"I dunno. I just sort of scented what was coming."
"Well, anyways, that's what she done. And pretty soon she sent me a snapshot of herself. Well--"
"Lemme see it," said Ronicky Doone calmly.
"I dunno just where it is, maybe," replied Bill Gregg.
"Ill tell you. It's right around your neck, in that nugget locket you wear there."
For a moment Bill Gregg hated the other with his eyes, and then he submitted with a sheepish grin, took off the locket, which was made of one big nugget rudely beaten into shape, and opened it for the benefit of Ronicky Doone. It showed the latter not a beautiful face, but a pretty one with a touch of honesty and pride that made her charming.
"Well, as soon as I got that picture," said Bill Gregg, as he took back the locket, "I sure got excited. Looked to me like that girl was made for me. A lot finer than I could ever be, you see, but simple; no fancy frills, no raving beauty, maybe, but darned easy to look at.
"First thing I done I went in and got a copy of my face made and rushed it right back at her and then--" He stopped dolefully. "What d'you think, Ronicky?"
"I dunno," said Ronicky; "what happened then?"
"Nothing, not a thing. Not a word came back from her to answer that letter I'd sent along."
"Maybe you didn't look rich enough to suit her, Bill."
"I thought that, and I thought it was my ugly face that might of made her change her mind. I thought of pretty near everything else that was bad about me and that she might of read in my face. Sure made me sick for a long time. Somebody else was correcting my lessons, and that made me sicker than ever.
"So I sat down and wrote a letter to the head of the school and told him I'd like to get the address of that first girl. You see, I didn't even know her name. But I didn't get no answer."
Ronicky groaned. "It don't look like the best detective in the world could help you to find a girl when you don't know her name." He added gently: