LITERARY Brown, Black, Blake and Cupid Elizabeth Brown was rather an old young lady; not quite an old maid, but a rather oldish maiden. She had literary aspirations, and boasted a nom-de-plume Helena Helms which occasionally appeared in Sunday newspapers. She glorified in her success, for, indeed, it was a certainty that the town of Brookville would rise into prominence because of her residence there. Elizabeth's watchword was "Fame." In her mind, she already belonged in the class of "The Great and the Near Great"; and everyone, she thought, knew "Who's Who and Why in America." But the literary Elizabeth cold, phlegmatic, self-satisfied had become a new Elizabeth, full of sentiment, warmth, and (for her) a most singular emotion. There had, indeed, been a most vital change. The cold, bleak January weather was unusually unpleasant to her newly aroused nature, and her life's calling had become rather lonely. Furthermore, her work was not nearly so lucrative as she had dreamed and hoped. Be it understood, however, that one person, and only one, was responsible, in some way or another, for the new attributes that Elizabeth had assumed. A young professor, Bert Blake, a recent graduate from college, was teaching in Brookville. Whether or not Elizabeth had felt similarly before, perhaps no one but she herself knows, and, in the light of her deep-set affection for the spruce young Professor Blake, she could not be trusted to tell us. Her early life, however, was not without heart interest. But for an obvious reason her hopeful suitor had been unsuccessful. In her earlier days, while at Brookville High School, she had written verses and had won fame throughout that institution among students and faculty alike. Her friends assured her that she had a bright future before her. This prediction was fulfilled by the acceptance of her "Nature's Natural Narration" by "The Farmer's Journal," a magazine of considerable importance. So, naturally, when a common farmer youth, a certain Herbert Black, asked her to share his meagre acres, ACORN 4 she disdainfully refused. Her elevated sphere would not permit such a step. Besides, her poetical nature did not fancy the combination of Brown and Black. His heart was broken, but it was soon mended by a buxom young lady named Maud Keller. But she had since died, leaving Herbert with three children and the farm. The arrival of the young professor had wrought a change in the life of Elizabeth, heretofore full of cold pseudo-culture. She began to dress more up-to-date, and even the style of her hair, which had come to be disgustingly precise because of her long experience in fixing it that habitual way, was beginning to show signs of more recent fashion. The clothes that Elizabeth wore had always been a few years behind the latest, but now these, too, were being cast aside to make way for the newest costumes. The once reserved Miss Brown, in short, was trying to reduce her thirty-seven years to twenty-three. But these things, however, did not absorb her full attention, for too alluring a vision of a young professor constantly floated before her eyes. The day-dream was indeed fascinating, but earth was not entirely heaven, even at that, because her longing soul was evolving a feeling that was akin to pain. Her heart ached. Whether this was owing to its having been called into play after such a long period of disuse, I do not know, but, nevertheless, Elizabeth's heart ached. It was imperative that something be done, so, first of all, she made it her business to be where young Blake happened to be as much as it was possible. "Good afternoon, Professor Blake," ventured Elizabeth Brown one fine February day when they met; "Doesn't it seem so nice to be at the Brookville High?" The social customs of this particular town made it permissible for one to thus seek the acquaintance of a desired friend, so Elizabeth had done nothing out of the way. "Why, my name is Elizabeth Brown," continued she, "perhaps you" "How do you do, Miss Brown," was the awkward reply of the professor, "why er yes, I'm at the Brookville High School. Have you some one going there?" "Why, yes, Mr. Blake. I'm an alumna of the school. The few short years since I was in attendance! seem almost like a day. Isn't Brookville such a lovely place, Ber Professor Blake?" Young Bert Blake could not keep back an amused smile. Elizabeth's heart throbbed with joy. She was sure she could interpret its meaning and friendly significance. After that she made it a point to speak to him daily. Her soul thrived on his cheery good morning and the gallant tipping of his hat upon anything, in fact, that partook of the personality of the professor. Her days were now unusually busy. She must learn to be a bet-