"I wish I could see you, Andy. You have no idea how I miss you. I
like quite a number of the boys, but none is so near to me as you
were.

"Well, Andy, I must close. Come to Arden soon, if you can. It will
do us good to see you, and I think even Conrad will be glad, as it
will give him a chance to pump you as to your position.

"Your affectionate friend,

"VALENTINE BURNS."

"So father has lost his best cow--old Whitey," said Andy, thoughtfully.
"If I were not owing money to Mr. Crawford for the land in Tacoma I
would buy him a new one, but some time I hope the land will be valuable,
and then I can make the loss good to father."

The reader has not, I hope, forgotten Andy's fellow lodger, S. Byron
Warren. Mr. Warren was always writing something for the _Century_, the
_Atlantic_, or some other leading magazine, but never had been cheered
by an acceptance. The magazine editors seemed leagued against him.

But one evening, when Andy returned from the office, he found Mr. Warren
beaming with complacence.

"You look happy to-night, Mr. Warren," he said.

"Yes," answered the author; "look at that."

He held out to Andy an eight-page paper called _The Weekly Magnet_, and
pointed out a story of two columns on the second page. Under the title
Andy read, "By S. Byron Warren." It was called "The Magician's Spell; A
Tale of Sunny Spain."

"I congratulate you," said Andy. "When did you write the story?"

"Last winter."

"How does it happen to be published so late?"

"You see, I sent it first to _Scribner's_, then to _Harper's_, and then
to the _Atlantic_. They didn't seem to fancy it, so I sent it to the
_Magnet_."

"I hope they paid you for it."

"Yes," answered Warren, proudly. "They gave me a dollar and a half for
it."

"Isn't that rather small?"

"Well, it is small, but the paper is poor. The editor wrote to me that
he would be glad to pay me ten dollars for such a sketch when they are
more prosperous."

"I suppose you will write again? You must feel greatly encouraged."

"I have been writing another story to-day. I shall mail it to them
to-morrow."

"I hope the _Magnet_ will prosper for your sake."

"Thank you. I hope so, too. Ah, Andy, you don't know how it seems to
see your own words in print!" said the author.

"I am afraid I never shall, Mr. Warren. I was not intended for an
author."

"Oh, I think you might write something," said Warren, patronizingly.

"No; I