Several Newspapers sent for his Picture, and he was asked to write a Sunday Article telling how and why he did it.  He was asked to Contribute Verses of the same General Character to various Periodicals.  Sometimes he would get away by himself and read the Thing over again, and shake his Head and Remark:  “Well, if they are Right, then I must be Wrong, but to me it is Punk.”

He had his Likeness printed in Advertisements which told the Public to read what the Author of “Willie’s Good Night” had to say about their Lithia Water.  Some one named a light, free-smoking Five-Cent Cigar after him, and he began to see Weird Paintings on the Dead Walls, and was Ashamed to walk along those Streets.

[Illustration:  LITTLE FERN]

It came out that one of the Frohmans wanted to Dramatize the Masterpiece, and it was Rumored that Stuart Robson, Modjeska, Thomas Q. Seabrooke, Maude Adams, Dave Warfield, and Walker Whiteside had been requested to play the Part of Willie.

Every morning the Author would get up and say to himself that it could not go on much longer.  He felt sure that the Public would come to its Senses some Day, and get after him with a Rope, but it didn’t.  His Fame continued to Spread and Increase.  All those Persons who had not Read it claimed that they had, so as to be in Line, and he had the same old Floral Tributes handed to him Day after Day.

It was Terrible.  He had gone to College and spent a large amount of Money irrigating and fertilizing his Mind, and he had Dreamed of writing Something that would be Strong enough for Charles Dudley Warner’s Library of the World’s Warmest Copy, in a Limited Edition of 20,000; but instead of landing with the Heavy-Weights he seemed Destined to achieve Greatness as the Author of a Boy’s Size Poem, bearing about the same Relation to the Literature of the Ages that a May Howard Window Hanger does to Pure Art.  He was Famous until he couldn’t rest, but it was not the Brand he had Coveted.

He decided to Live It Down.  He would Produce something Serious and Meritorious that would throw “Willie’s Good Night” into the Shade.  So he labored for Two Years on a Novel that analyzed Social Conditions, and every Reviewer said that here was a Volume by the Author of “Willie’s Good Night.”  The Purchasers of the Book expected to take it Home and Read it and Weep.  When they found that it did not contain any Dark Skies or Headstones, they felt that they had been Bilked out of $1.50 each.  It was Suggested that the Author of “Willie’s Good Night” was losing his Grip and seemed to have Written Himself Out.

He was not wholly Discouraged.  He went out Lecturing on the Occult, just to prove to People that he had been Misjudged.  The Local Chairman always introduced him as the Celebrated Author of “Willie’s Good Night.”  Frequently he was Dragged away to a Home to meet all the Big Guns of one of these Towns that call a Lecture a Show.  After he had been on Exhibition for a Half Hour or so, the same as the Albino or the Man with the Elastic Skin in the Main Curio Hall, the Host would clear a Space in the Center of the Room and announce that he was about to spring a Delightful Surprise on their Distinguished Guest.  Little Fern, the Daughter of the County Recorder, was going to Speak “Willie’s Good Night.”