secret elation and went about the house singing
like a lark, until Betty, who had been moping like an owl since her
mother went to the hospital, was quite cheered up. "What are you so
happy about?" she asked curiously. "You act as if somebody had left you
a fortune."

"Maybe they have," replied Migwan mysteriously; "wait and see!"

Her joy was short-lived, however, for the play came back even more
promptly than the stories had. Undaunted, she sent it out again and
again. The reasons given for rejection would have been amusing if Migwan
had not felt so disappointed. One said there was insufficient plot; one
said the plot was too complicated; one said it was too long for a
one-reel, and the next said it was too short even for a split-reel. Two
places kept the return postage she had enclosed and sent the manuscript
back collect. Scenario writing became a rather expensive amusement,
instead of a bringer of fortune. In spite of all this, she kept on
writing scenarios, for the fascination of the game had her in its grip,
and she would never be satisfied until she succeeded. Lessons were
thrust into the background of her mind by the throng of "scene-plots,"
"leaders," "bust-scenes," "inserts," "synopses," etc., that flashed
through her head continually.

To write steadily night after night, after the lessons had been gotten
out of the way, was a great tax on her young strength. Nyoda was
inflexible about her stopping typewriting at nine o'clock, but she went
home and wrote by hand until midnight. Nyoda was over at the house one
afternoon when Migwan was settling down to get her lessons, and saw her
take a dose from a phial.

"What are you taking medicine for?" she asked.

"Oh, this is just something to tone me up," replied Migwan.

"What is it?" insisted Nyoda.

"It's strychnine," said Migwan.

"Strychnine!" said Nyoda in a horrified voice. "Who taught you to take
strychnine as a stimulant?"

"Mabel Collins did," answered Migwan. "She said she always took it when
she had a dance on for every night in the week and couldn't keep up any
other way, and it made her feel fine." Mabel Collins belonged to what
the class called the "fast bunch."

"I'll have a talk with Mabel Collins," said Nyoda with a resolute gleam
in her eye. "And, remember, no more of this 'tonic' for you. I knew
girls in college who took strychnine to keep themselves going through
examinations or other occasions of great physical strain, and they have