Tommy and Grizel | Page 7

Tommy.

"Is mine the first half? Where does yours begin?" "That is not exactly
what I mean," explained Tommy, in a glow, but backing a little; "you
wrote that chapter first, and then I--I--"
"You rewrote it!" roared Pym. "You dared to meddle with--" He was
speechless with fury.
"I tried to keep my hand off," Tommy said, with dignity, "but the thing
had to be done, and they are human now."
"Human! who wants them to be human? The fiends seize you, boy! you
have even been tinkering with my heroine's personal appearance; what
is this you have been doing to her nose?"
"I turned it up slightly, that's all," said Tommy.
"I like them down," roared Pym.
"I prefer them up," said Tommy, stiffly.
"Where," cried Pym, turning over the leaves in a panic, "where is the
scene in the burning house?"
"It's out," Tommy explained, "but there is a chapter in its place
about--it's mostly about the beauty of the soul being everything, and
mere physical beauty nothing. Oh, Mr. Pym, sit down and let me read it
to you."
But Pym read it, and a great deal more, for himself. No wonder he
stormed, for the impossible had been made not only consistent, but
unreadable. The plot was lost for chapters. The characters no longer did
anything, and then went and did something else: you were told instead
how they did it. You were not allowed to make up your own mind
about them: you had to listen to the mind of T. Sandys; he described
and he analyzed; the road he had tried to clear through the thicket was
impassable for chips.
"A few more weeks of this," said Pym, "and we should all three be

turned out into the streets."
Tommy went to bed in an agony of mortification, but presently to his
side came Pym.
"Where did you copy this from?" he asked. "'It is when we are thinking
of those we love that our noblest thoughts come to us, and the more
worthy they are of our love the nobler the thought; hence it is that no
one has done the greatest work who did not love God.'"
"I copied it from nowhere," replied Tommy, fiercely; "it's my own."
"Well, it has nothing to do with the story, and so is only a blot on it,
and I have no doubt the thing has been said much better before. Still, I
suppose it is true."
"It's true," said Tommy; "and yet--"
"Go on. I want to know all about it."
"And yet," Tommy said, puzzled, "I've known noble thoughts come to
me when I was listening to a brass band."
Pym chuckled. "Funny things, noble thoughts," he agreed. He read
another passage: "'It was the last half-hour of day when I was admitted,
with several others, to look upon my friend's dead face. A handkerchief
had been laid over it. I raised the handkerchief. I know not what the
others were thinking, but the last time we met he had told me
something, it was not much--only that no woman had ever kissed him.
It seemed to me that, as I gazed, the wistfulness came back to his face. I
whispered to a woman who was present, and stooping over him, she
was about to--but her eyes were dry, and I stopped her. The
handkerchief was replaced, and all left the room save myself. Again I
raised the handkerchief. I cannot tell you how innocent he looked.'"
"Who was he?" asked Pym.
"Nobody," said Tommy, with some awe; "it just came to me. Do you

notice how simple the wording is? It took me some time to make it so
simple."
"You are just nineteen, I think?"
"Yes."
Pym looked at him wonderingly.
"Thomas," he said, "you are a very queer little devil."
He also said: "And it is possible you may find the treasure you are
always talking about. Don't jump to the ceiling, my friend, because I
say that. I was once after the treasure, myself; and you can see whether
I found it."
From about that time, on the chances that this mysterious treasure
might spring up in the form of a new kind of flower, Pym zealously
cultivated the ground, and Tommy had an industrious time of it. He
was taken off his stories, which at once regained their elasticity, and
put on to exercises.
"If you have nothing to say on the subject, say nothing," was one of the
new rules, which few would have expected from Pym. Another was:
"As soon as you can say what you think, and not what some other
person has thought for you, you are on the way to being a remarkable
man."
"Without concentration, Thomas, you are lost; concentrate, though your
coat-tails be