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Olbrich, M. B. (ed.) / The Wisconsin literary magazine
Vol. 1, No. 1 (December 1903)

Winslow, Horatio
The story of a hit,   pp. [unnumbered]-18

Page 18

of a small two-story brick house. A long flight of steps led up
to the front door and on the top sat a little girl in white.
  "If you're from the newspaper," she said, "and you want
see Mr. Finlay, it's no use, because he's dead."
  "Dead!" repeated Hartly.
  "Yes, dead. He had the fever again and died this morning
awful early."
  The Sunday editor caught Hartly's arm and half led him to
the door.
  "Where's his room?"
  "It's the first one to the left, but he's dead and it's no use to
see him."
  With the assurance born of much newspaper work the Sunday
Editor opened the door and walked up the stairs, followed by
Hartly. The dust was thick and there was a heavy odor, while
at the top a slatternly woman peered over the banisters as though
to prevent their coming.
  The Sunday Editor opened the door to the left and looked in.
It was a little room, bare of all that might suggest warmth or
comfort. A single picture brightened the walls. It was a pink
and white chorus girl on gray paper. She smiled at them in-
vitingly over a daintily poised shoulder. And on the bed-
  With a choked sob Hartly sprang forward and, snatching the
colored sketch from the wall, tore it into a dozen pieces.
  And on the bed lay Finlay, very white and very still, staring
up at the ceiling with wide, unwinking eyes.
                                        -Horatio Winslow.

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