?"

"Oh, I'd like a lot for them. New York is full of things I want."

He laughed again.

"We could give you $150 a story. That would be $1,500 for the ten. Then,
eventually, we would make a book of them, and you would get 10 per
cent. on that."

"A book? A book, with illustrations, and covers, and all?"

He nodded. "Are those terms satisfactory?"

"Oh, mercy, yes. It sounds like a fortune!"

"When could you begin, Mrs. Jocelyn?"

"Right away, to-day!"

"Well, that will hardly be necessary. If you send copy to us by the
fifth, that will be soon enough."

"All right. Jarvis is selling a play to-day, so probably we will be rich
shortly."

"To whom is Mr. Jocelyn selling his play?"

"Belasco."

"So! That's fine! You'll never have to support him, at that rate."

"He doesn't know about my getting the prize and coming to see you, and
all. I want to keep it a secret for a time."

"I understand."

"It would be rather awful for me to be famous first."

"I don't know about that. It would be selfish of your husband to stand
in your way."

"Oh, Jarvis is selfish. He's utterly, absorbedly selfish, but not just
that way. He'd never stand in my way."

"I'd like to meet Jarvis."

"Well, when the secret is out I'll bring him here. He's unusual, Jarvis
is. Some day he'll be great."

"He is in luck to be Mr. to your Mrs."

She flushed furiously.

"Yes, I think he is," she admitted, as she rose.

"How long are you to be in New York?"

"As long as your five hundred holds out."

"You must come in again. If I can be of any use to you, while you are
here, give you letters to anybody, have you meet people, I'll be
delighted to do so."

"You're a very nice man," said she. "You have removed the ban from the
whole tribe of editors in twenty minutes' talk."

"That's a tribute worth living for. It has been a delightful twenty
minutes. Come in again."

Out in the office, and in the impressive reception room, interested
faces turned toward her. The girl who had acted sponsor for her nodded.
She tasted the first fruits of success, and they were sweet. The only
imperfection was the fact she could not tell Jarvis. She could not brag
of her triumphs nor repeat the friendly chat with Mr. Strong. It would
be such fun to see his surprise at the news--he had so lately patronized
her. "You are not the stuff of which creative artists are made,
of course."

Tra-la-la! She'd make him eat those words.

Then she began at