you going to call it?"

Theodora blushed, and the name stuck in her throat.

"I thought I should call it _In the Furnace of Affliction_," she said
hesitatingly.

"Wow! How doleful!"

"Don't you like it?" she asked.

"It's rather taking, only it isn't exactly festive," he answered.

"Neither is the story, I suspect," she said, laughing a little
nervously.

"Go on," he said so imperatively that, with one long breath, Theodora
began to read.

It was more than two hours before she finished her story, and during
that time Billy's attention and respect never failed her. There were
moments when his gravity was sorely tried, for, more mature than
Theodora, and, by stress of circumstances, far more at home in the world
of books, he realized all the unconscious humor of some of the overdrawn
scenes and melodramatic conversations. Still, his loyalty to Theodora
would not let him waver, and, in spite of its crudeness, he was honestly
surprised at some of the really telling points of the story.

"It is good, Ted," he said, as she dropped the last page into her lap.
"It isn't quite up to _Treasure Island_ or _Ivanhoe_; but it's as good
as half the rubbish that gets published, and some of it is most awfully
fine. I like that scene where Violet and Marianne tell each other their
love affairs. Girls talk just like that, you know."

"You really think it is worth publishing?" she questioned, while her
color came and went.

"I most certainly do. Chop it down a little and copy it out, and then
send it to a man."

"But I don't want to cut it," she protested.

"It's too long," Billy urged, with more practicality than tact.

"Not a bit. It's no longer than _Robert Elsmere_, and everybody has read
that."

"Have you?"

"No; but I counted the pages and words and things. This isn't long a
bit, Billy."

The discussion was never ended, for just then Patrick came into the
room.

"The expressman has been here, Mr. Will."

"And has brought the tricycle? Hurray!" And Billy seized his crutches.
"Where is it? Help me up, Patrick! Come along, Ted!"

"I had it taken into the kitchen. Shall I open it, sir?"

"Of course. Hurry up about it, too. Did anything else come?"

"Yes; but not here, sir."

With a little feeling of envy, Theodora followed Billy to the kitchen
and stood by, while Patrick opened the crate and took out the light
tricycle so carefully packed within.

"Isn't it a beauty? Isn't it fine? Oh, why does it have to