Sophie Kerr's "Wild Earth" makes capital in like legitimate manner of the little shop girl and her farmer husband. Wesley Dean is as far removed from the Down Easterner of a Mary Wilkins farm as his wife, Anita, is remote from the Sallies and Nannies of the farmhouse. Of the soil this story bears the fragrance in a happier manner; its theme of wild passion belongs to the characters, as it might belong, also, to the man and woman of another setting. "Here is a romance of the farm," the author seems to say; not sordid realistic portrayal of earth grubbers. So, too, Tristram Tupper's "Grit" reveals the inspiration that flashed from the life of a junkman. So Cooper and Creagan evoke the drama of the railroad man's world: glare of headlight, crash of wreckage and voice of the born leader mingle in unwonted orchestration. "Martin Gerrity Gets Even" is reprinted as their best story of this _genre_.
The stories of Ethel Watts Mumford declare her cosmopolitan ability and her willingness to deal with lives widely diverse. At least three rank high in the estimation of her fellow-committeemen. "Aurore," by its terseness and poignant interpretation of the character of the woman under the Northern Lights touches poetry and is akin to music in its creative flight. The Committee voted to include it in Volume III, under the author's protest and under her express stipulation that it should not be regarded as a candidate for either prize. That another of her stories might have found place in the collection is indicated best by the following letter:
The Players 16 Gramercy Park New York City
To Dr. B.C. Williams, 605 West 113 Street, New York City.
I mailed to you yesterday a copy of a story by Ethel Watts Mumford, entitled "Funeral Frank," published in the _Detective Story Magazine_ two weeks ago--for your consideration in awarding the O. Henry Memorial prize.
I think it is the best short story I have read in a long time both for originality of subject and technical construction.
The choice on the author's part of such an unsuspected (by the reader) and seemingly insignificant agent for the working of Nemesis, I think shows great skill. I say _seemingly_ insignificant because a little dog seems such a small and unlikely thing to act the leading part in a criminal's judgment and suggested regeneration--and yet all lovers of animals know what such a tie of affection may mean, especially to one who has no human friends--and even while it works, the victim of Nemesis as the author says "is wholly unconscious of the irony of the situation."