hat it takes to say--"Jack Robinson."

When they came back, the children ran out to see, and Randy took them
down the road and back again. "You can carry the whole family," he
said, "when you go----"

The man's wife came out. She refused to ride. She was afraid.

But Randy talked her over. "My mother felt like that. But once you
are in it is different."

She climbed in, and came back with her face shining.

"I am going to buy the car," her husband said to her.

Randy's heart jumped. Somehow he had felt that it would not really
happen. He had had little faith in his qualities as salesman. Yet,
after all, it had happened, and he had sold his car.

Riding down the hill, he was conscious of a new sense of achievement.
It was all very well to dream of writing masterpieces. But here was
something tangible.

"Nellie," he said, "things are picking up."

Nellie laid her nose on his knee and looked up at him. It had been a
long ride, and she was glad they were on the homeward stretch. But she
wagged her tail. Nellie knew when things were going well with her
master. And when his world went wrong, her sky darkened.

III

The sale of one car, however, does not make a fortune. Randy realized
as the days went on that if he sold them and sold them and sold them,
Dalton would still outdistance him financially.

There remained, therefore, fame, and the story in the back of his mind.
If he could lay a thing like that at Becky's feet! He had the lover's
urge towards some heaven-kissing act which should exalt his
mistress---- A book for all the world to read--a picture painted with
a flaming brush, a statue carved with a magic instrument. It was for
Becky that Randy would work and strive hoping that by some divine
chance he might draw her to him.

He worked at night until the Major finally remonstrated.

"Do you ever go to bed?"

Randy laughed. "Sometimes."

"Are you writing?"

"Trying to."

"Hard work?"

"I like it,"--succinctly.

The Major smoked for a while in silence. Then he said, "I suppose you
don't want to talk about it."

It was a starry night and a still one. The younger boarders had gone
for a ride. The older boarders were in bed. The Major was stretched
in his long chair. Randy sat as usual on the steps.

"Yes," he said, "I'd like to talk about it. I have a big idea, and I
can't put it on paper."

He hugged his knees and talked. His young voice thrilled with the
majesty