Big Game - A Story for Girls

She drew a sigh of relief as she replied-"No, indeed. Couldn't to save my life. It's--Ron! I was thinking of

him, not of myself. He is a poet!"

The Chieftain groaned aloud, as if in pain.

"Oh, I know you won't believe it, but he is! He writes wonderful poems.

Not rhymes, but poems; beautiful poems that live in your mind. He will

be another Tennyson or Browning when he is a little older."

The Chieftain groaned again, a trifle more loudly than before.

"It's true! It really is true. You must have seen yourself that he is

different from other boys of his age. You heard him reeling off those

impromptu lines the other day, and said how clever they were! I have

seen you looking at his face when he has been thinking out some idea. I

knew what he was doing, and you didn't; but you guessed that he was

different from ordinary people."

"I saw that he was mooning about something, and wondered if he was right

in the head! If he'd been my boy, I should have taken care to keep his

nose so close to the grindstone that he would have no time to moon!

Poet, indeed! Didn't you tell me that your father was a successful

business man? What is he about, to countenance such nonsense?"

"He doesn't!" replied Margot sadly. "No one does but me, and that's why

I had to act. Father agrees with you. He doesn't care for books, and

looks down upon literary men as poor, effeminate sort of creatures, who

know nothing of the world. He is ashamed that his only son writes

verses. Ron detests the idea of business, but he has had to promise

father that he would go into his office if at the end of a year he had

had no encouragement to persevere in literature. But how is a young

unknown poet to make himself known? The magazines announce that they

can accept no unsolicited poetical contributions; the publishers laugh

at the idea of bringing out a book by a man of whom no one has heard. A

boy might be a second Shakespeare, but no one would believe in him until

they had first broken his heart by their ridicule and unbelief. The

year is out in September, so matters were getting desperate, when at

last I--thought of this plan! I felt sure that if a man who was a real

judge of literary power met Ron face to face, and got to know him, he

would realise his gifts, and be willing to give him a chance. It was no

use trying in London in the midst of the full pressure of work, but in

the country everything is different. I knew a man who knew a man in the

office of the Loadstar, and asked him to find out your brother's

plans--"