ted every contribution. When he came to
an impasse, he howled through the house for her, like a lost child
wailing for its mother.

These daily councils of war, his incessant need of her, interfered with
her plan of a career as a danseuse. She found that her days were
resolving themselves into two portions--times when Jarvis needed her,
and times when he did not. The hours they devoted together to his work
constituted the core of her day, her happy time. She considered Jarvis
as impersonally as she did the typewriter. It was the sense of being
needed, of helping in his work, that filled her with such new zest. But
the hours hung heavy between the third-floor summons, and one day, as
she lay in the hammock, a book in her hand, it came to her that she
might try it herself. She might put down her thoughts, her dreams, her
ambitions, and make a story of them. Thought and action were one with
Bambi. In five minutes' time she had pencil and paper, and had set forth
on her new adventure.

For the next few days she was so absorbed in her experiment that she
almost neglected the "Heavenly Twins." The Professor commented on her
abstraction, and Ardelia complained that "everybody in dis heah house is
crazy, all of them studyin' and writin'; yo' cain't even sing a
hallelujah but somebody is a shoutin', 'Sh!'"

Only Jarvis failed to note any change. It was too much to expect that
the great Jocelyn could concentrate on any but his own mental attitudes.

Like most facile people, Bambi was bored with her masterpiece at the end
of a week, and abandoned it without a sigh. She decided that literature
was not to be enriched by her. In fact, she never gave a thought to her
first-born child until a month after its birth, when a New York magazine
fell into her hands offering a prize of $500 for a short story. She took
out her manuscript and read it over with a sense of surprise. She
marched off to a stenographer, had it typed, and sent it to the contest,
using a pen name as a signature, and then she promptly forgot about it.

Six weeks more of hard labour brought "Success" almost to completion.
Bambi was absorbed in the play. It was undoubtedly much better; her
hopes were high that it would get a production. If only Jarvis could get
to New York with it and show it to the managers; but that meant money,
and they had none. Her busy brain spent hours scheming, but no
light came.

Then out of the blue fell a shining bolt! A long envelope, w