like that," she
thought, "only I never could do up jabots and I'd rather scrub floors
than shampoo people's heads."

"Come in," called the liquid, melting voice of the Southern girl in
answer to Molly's tap. "Oh, how do you do? What a delightful, welcome
surprise," cried the hospitable little person. "Put your feet over the
register. That's where I spend most of my time now. I'm not used to this
awful climate. Now, give me your hat and coat. You're to have tea with
me, you know. You won't mind if I go on working, will you? I'm doing up
some jabots and things for that sweet Miss Stewart. She has given me a
lot of work. Such a lady, if she is a Yankee! I can safely say that to
you because you aren't one, you know. But, really, I'm beginning to like
these Northern girls so much. They are quite as nice as the girls from
home, only quieter," rattled on Miss Petit.

Molly groaned inwardly.

"If she only didn't talk so much," she thought. "I'm always putting up
milestones during her ramblings to remind me of something I wanted to
say, but there's never any chance to go back, even if I could remember
where I put them."

"I wanted to return these clippings," she managed to edge in at last,
producing the slips of papers.

"Oh, you needn't have bothered. I shall never use any of them. I told
you there was nothing but mathematics in my soul. I can't write at all.
The themes are the horror of my life. But you tried, I am sure. Was it
the short story or one of the advertising ones? They are all of them
terribly unsatisfactory because you never know where you stand until
months and months afterwards when you read that somebody has won the
prize. But, of course, I never expect to win prizes. I could never make
a _coup de tete_ like that."

"You could make a _coup de_ tongue," thought Molly, sighing helplessly.

"But did you try?" asked Madeleine, now actually pausing for a reply to
her question.

"I did try one of them, a little poem that came into my head, but it was
weeks ago and I know nothing will come of it. I felt when I sent it off
that it wasn't the kind of thing they wanted, wasn't advertisey enough.
I had really almost forgotten I wrote it, so many other things have
happened since. Can you keep a secret, Miss Petit?"

"I certainly can," replied the busy little creature, pausing in her
labors to test the iron. "Dear me, I must be careful not to scorch any
of these pretty things. But the tea kettle is boiling. Suppos