tracts too big to handle, what would you take
for your option on the Weatherbee property?"

And Banks, edging away to the end of the seat, answered sharply: "I can
handle both; my option ain't for sale."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DAY OF PUBLICATION

It was a mild evening, the last in February, and Jimmie, who had received
two copies of the March issue of _Sampson's Magazine_ direct from the
publisher, celebrated the event by taking the Society Editor canoeing on
Lake Washington. Instead of helping with the bow paddle, of which she was
fully capable, Miss Atkins settled against the pillows facing him, with
the masterpiece in her lap. The magazine was closed, showing his name
among the specially mentioned on the cover, but she kept the place with
her finger. She had a pretty hand, and it was adorned by the very best
diamond that could be bought at Hanson's for one hundred and fifty
dollars.

She waited, watching Jimmie's stroke, while the Peterboro slipped out from
the boathouse and rose quartering to the swells of a passing launch. Her
hat was placed carefully behind her in the bow, and the light wind
roughened her hair, which was parted on the side, into small rings on her
forehead. It gave her an air of boyish camaraderie, and the young author's
glance, moving from the magazine and the ring, swept her whole trim figure
to the mannish, flat-heeled little shoes, and returned to her face. "This
is my red-letter day," he said.

"It's the proudest in my life," answered Geraldine, and the way in which
she said it made him catch his breath.

"It makes me feel almost sure enough to cut loose from the _Press_ and go
into business for myself."

"Oh, I shouldn't be in a hurry to leave the paper, if I were you," she
replied, "even though _Sampson's_ has asked to see more of your work."

"It isn't the magazine opening I am considering; though I shall do what I
can in that way, of course. But what would you think of an offer to take
full charge of a newspaper east of the Cascades? It's so." He paused,
nodding in emphasis to the confirmation. "The letter is there in my coat
pocket. It's from Bailey--you remember that young fellow I told you about
who made an investment in the Wenatchee valley. Well, it seems they have
incorporated a town on some of that property. His city lots are selling so
fast he has raised the price three times. And they have put him up for
mayor. He says it's mighty hard to run an election without a