adyville
Daily Star_--under Mrs. Caldwell's reluctant chaperonage--to see the
linotype machine which had been installed in honor of Ted's reign. She
even read proof on the tumultuous day which preceded the transformed
_Star's_ first appearance.

Peter watched her in amazement. "But I thought newspapers bored you!"
he exclaimed one afternoon when, coming to read his beloved Theocritus
with her, he found Sheila immersed in a whirlwind of New York papers,
from which she was industriously clipping items for reprint in the
_Star_.

"Oh," she cried, in the rapturous voice of the devotee, "I didn't
understand how wonderful newspaper work could be! Why, Peter--I've got
my finger on the pulse of the world!"

At which Peter put his Theocritus back into the safety of his pocket
lest even its tranquil spirit be corrupted by the fever of journalism.

To Ted Sheila's magnificent energy in his behalf, her unflagging
comprehension and sympathy, were steps by which he mounted blithely to
his goal. How _could_ he fail with Sheila to stimulate him, to assist
him, to believe in him?

And indeed, the _Star_ did reward the efforts of both its new editor
and his silent partner. It made a triumphant debut, and it continued
daily to fulfill the expectations which that debut had aroused.

Toward the end of the summer, Ted at last drew a breath of complete
security. He was on Mrs. Caldwell's veranda at the time, and he and
Sheila were alone together. It was just such a night as the first one
of his return to Shadyville; the moonlight poured prodigally downward
upon them, showing to each the other's face, silver-clear; the scent of
the climbing roses stole to them on the light wind; from kitchenward
came the soft notes of black Mandy's song as she finished her evening
tasks--"Weep no mo', my lady!"

Everything was as it had been on that first night two months
before--and yet everything was different. Within those two months Ted
had proved himself as a man--a man who could do his chosen work. And
Sheila--Ah, what had she not taught him--what had she not taught
herself--of the woman's part in a man's work--a man's life? The same?
No, everything was different!

Ted was sitting at Sheila's feet, in what had become his accustomed
place. He glanced up at her, sweet and serene in the moonlight, and
something rose within him as resistlessly as a mighty tide.

"I'm winning!" he said triumphantly, "I'm winning! But I couldn't have
do