much, so very much depended on this interview, and already the
prospect seemed far from hopeful.

"I should like to see some of your work," observed Mr. Bircham. "How
long have you been in the habit of writing in Mr. Raeburn's organ?"

"For the last five years," said Erica.

Mr. Bircham lifted his shaggy eyebrows at this, for Erica looked even
younger than she really was. However, he made no comment, but took up
the end of a speaking tube.

"Send up Jones with the file of 'Idol-Breakers' I ordered."

Erica's color rose. Presently the answer from the lower regions appeared
in the shape of the sedate clerk carrying a great bundle of last year's
'Idol-Breakers.'

"Perhaps you will show me one or two of your average articles," said Mr.
Bircham, and, while Erica searched through the bundle of papers, he took
up one of the copies which she had put aside, and studied the outside
page critically. "'The Idol-Breaker:' Advocate of Freethought and
Secularism. Edited by Luke Raeburn."

"They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three."

Mr. Bircham put it down and began to watch her attentively. She was
absorbed in her search, and was quite unconscious of his scrutiny. Even
had she noticed him, she would not have understood what was passing in
his mind. His little gray eyes grew bright; then he pushed back his wig
impatiently; then he cleared his throat; finally he took snuff, sneezed
violently, and walked to the window. When he returned he was even more
dry and formal than before.

"These, I think, are fairly representative," said Erica. "I have marked
them on the margin."

He took the three or four copies she handed to him, and began to look
through one of the articles, muttering a sentence half aloud every now
and then, and making little ejaculations which might have been either
approval or disapproval.

Finally the interview ended. Mr. Bircham put down the papers with a sigh
of utter weariness, Erica thought.

"Well, Miss Raeburn," he remarked, "I will look at one or two of your
other articles, and will communicate with you in a few days' time."

Then he shook hands with her with frigid politeness, and in another
minute she was slowly making her way down the dingy staircase. Partly
from the reaction after her excitement, partly from mental worry and
physical weariness, she felt by the time she was fairly out of the
office as if she could hardly drag herself along. Her heart was like
lead, blank l