her palm.

"Four dollars and a half," he said. "Not much, but we are fortunate to
have that. And with such fine living as we get here so cheap it will go
quite a long way. Let me see--the price of board and lodging is only
three and a half a week for both of us. Seven dollars would pay our way
for a fortnight--and in a fortnight's time there's no telling what may
turn up! Some editor might buy 'The Raven,' or money due me for work
already sold might come in. If I could only contrive to raise this sum
to seven dollars we could rest easy for at least a fortnight."

"I'll tell you how," said Virginia. "You have acquaintances here--hunt
up some of them and borrow three dollars. Then you would have enough to
pay two weeks board ahead and fifty cents over for pocket money."

"Wise little head!" exclaimed he, tapping her brow, "The very idea!"

And forthwith all care as to ways and means was thrown from both their
minds, and they gave themselves up to an evening of enjoyment of the
comforts of their brown-stone mansion.

While Virginia was resting her husband went out for a little shopping to
be done with part of the fifty cents they had allowed themselves for
spending money. First he exchanged a few cents for a tin pan to be
filled with water and placed on top of the stove, for the comfort of
Virginia who had been oppressed by the dry heat. Then a few cents more
went for two buttons his coat lacked, a skein of thread to sew them on
with, and a skein of silk with which Virginia would mend a rent in his
trousers made by too close contact with a nail on deck of the steamboat.

Next day was a bright, beautiful, spring Sunday. The sky and budding
trees had the newly-washed aspect often seen after a season of rain. The
sound of church-bells was on the air; the streets were filled with
people in their best clothes, and the new boarders in Greenwich Street,
fortified with a breakfast of ham and eggs and coffee, jubilantly joined
that stream of humanity which flowed toward the point above which
Trinity Church spire pierced the clear sky.

* * * * *

On Monday, Edgar Poe was taken with what he called a "writing fit." For
several days (during which Edgar Goodfellow remained in the ascendency)
the fit remained on him, and he wrote incessantly--only pausing long
enough, now and then, to read the result to Virginia.

"This will earn us the money to bring Muddie and Catalina to New York,"
he said wit