and the phenomenal is always entitled to
consideration of some sort.

"Miss Wallingford?" murmured Margaret, and she gave an impression of
obeisance; this charming elegantly attired lady before the Western
girl. Martha Wallingford coloured high with delight and admiration.

"Yes, I am Miss Wallingford," she replied and asked her caller to be
seated. Margaret sat down facing her. The young author shuffled in
her chair like a school girl. She was an odd combination of enormous
egotism and the most painful shyness. She realised at a glance that
she herself was provincial and pitifully at a disadvantage personally
before this elegant vision, and her personality was in reality more
precious to her than her talent.

"I can not tell you what a great pleasure and privilege this is for
me," said Margaret, and her blue eyes had an expression of admiring
rapture. The girl upon whom the eyes were fixed, blushed and giggled
and tossed her head with a sudden show of pride. She quite agreed
that it was a pleasure and privilege for Margaret to see her, the
author of _Hearts Astray_, even if Margaret was herself so charming
and so provokingly well dressed. Miss Martha Wallingford did not hide
her light of talent under a bushel with all her shyness, which was
not really shyness at all but a species of rather sullen pride and
resentment because she was so well aware that she could not do well
the things which were asked of her and had not mastered the art of
dress and self poise.

Therefore, Martha, with the delight of her own achievements full upon
her face, which was pretty, although untutored, regarded her visitor
with an expression which almost made Margaret falter. It was probably
the absurd dressing of the girl's hair which restored Margaret's
confidence in her scheme. Martha Wallingford actually wore a frizzled
bang, very finely frizzled too, and her hair was strained from the
nape of her neck, and it seemed impossible that a young woman who
knew no better than to arrange her hair in such fashion, should not
be amenable to Margaret's plan. The plan, moreover, sounded very
simple, except for the little complications which might easily arise.
Margaret smiled into the pretty face under the fuzz of short hair.

"My dear Miss Wallingford," said she, "I have come this morning to
beg a favour. I hope you will not refuse me, although I am such an
entire stranger. If, unfortunately, my intimate friend, Mrs.
Fay-Wyman, of whom I assume