turned to her father.
"I'll tell you what, Colonel Woodburn, I want Mr. March to see some
chapters of that book of yours. I've been talking to him about it."

"I do not think it would add to the popularity of your periodical, sir,"
said the Colonel, with a stately pleasure in being asked. "My views of
a civilization based upon responsible slavery would hardly be acceptable
to your commercialized society."

"Well, not as a practical thing, of course," Fulkerson admitted. "But
as something retrospective, speculative, I believe it would make a hit.
There's so much going on now about social questions; I guess people
would like to read it."

"I do not know that my work is intended to amuse people," said the
Colonel, with some state.

"Mah goodness! Ah only wish it WAS, then," said his daughter; and she
added: "Yes, Mr. Fulkerson, the Colonel will be very glad to submit
po'tions of his woak to yo' edito'. We want to have some of the honaw.
Perhaps we can say we helped to stop yo' magazine, if we didn't help to
stawt it."

They all laughed at her boldness, and Fulkerson said: "It 'll take a
good deal more than that to stop 'Every Other Week'. The Colonel's whole
book couldn't do it." Then he looked unhappy, for Colonel Woodburn did
not seem to enjoy his reassuring words; but Miss Woodburn came to his
rescue. "You maght illustrate it with the po'trait of the awthoris
daughtaw, if it's too late for the covah."

"Going to have that in every number, Miss Woodburn!" he cried.

"Oh, mah goodness!" she said, with mock humility.

Alma sat looking at her piquant head, black, unconsciously outlined
against the lamp, as she sat working by the table. "Just keep still a
moment!"

She got her sketch-block and pencils, and began to draw; Fulkerson
tilted himself forward and looked over her shoulder; he smiled
outwardly; inwardly he was divided between admiration of Miss Woodburn's
arch beauty and appreciation of the skill which reproduced it; at the
same time he was trying to remember whether March had authorized him
to go so far as to ask for a sight of Colonel Woodburn's manuscript.
He felt that he had trenched upon March's province, and he framed one
apology to the editor for bringing him the manuscript, and another to
the author for bringing it back.

"Most Ah hold raght still like it was a photograph?" asked Miss
Woodburn. "Can Ah toak?"

"Talk all you want," said Alma, squinting her eyes. "And you needn't be
either adam