eadful to have the sales fall off. You really don't think anybody
does remember?"

"My dear," said Alice with her entirely good-natured, even amused and
tolerant air of cynicism, "the women of the Zenith Club remember
their own papers. You need not have the slightest fear. But Annie,
you wonderful little girl, I am so glad you have come to me with
this. I have been waiting for you to tell me, for I was impatient to
tell you how delighted I am. You blessed child, I never was more glad
at anything in my whole life. I am as proud as proud can be. I feel
as if I had written that book myself, and better than written it
myself. I have had none of the bother of the work and my friend had
it and my friend has the fame and the glory and she goes around among
us with her little halo hidden out of sight of everybody, except
myself."

"Margaret knows."

Alice stiffened a little. "That is recent," she said, "and I have
known all the time."

"Margaret could not have remembered that sentence, I am sure," Annie
said thoughtfully. "Poor Margaret, she was so upset by what happened
last night that I am afraid the news did not cheer her up as much as
I thought it would."

"Well, you dear little soul," said Alice, "I am simply revelling in
happiness and pride because of it, you may be sure of that."

"But you have not had such an awful blow as poor Margaret had," said
Annie. Then she brightened. "Oh Alice," she cried, "I wanted somebody
who loved me to be glad."

"You have not told your grandmother and aunts yet?"

"I have not dared," replied Annie in a shamed fashion. "I know I
deceived them and I think perhaps grandmother might find it hard not
to tell. She is so old you know, and she does tell a great deal
without meaning and Aunt Susan likes to tell news. I have not dared,
Alice. The publishers have been so very insistent that nobody should
know, but I had to tell you and Margaret."

"It made no difference anyway about me," said Alice, "since I already
knew."

"Margaret can be trusted too, I am sure," Annie said quickly.

"Of course."

Annie looked at her watch. "I must go," she said, "or I shall be
late. Isn't it really wonderful that I should write a successful
book, Alice?"

"You are rather wonderful, my dear," said Alice. Then she rose and
put her arms around the slender white-clad figure and held her close,
and gave her one of her infrequent kisses. "You precious little
thing," she said, "the book is wonderful, b