Western," said Margaret. "How very warm it is to-day."

"Very, but there is quite a breeze here."

"A hot breeze," said Margaret wearily. "How I wish we could afford a
house at the seashore or the mountains. The hot weather does get on
my nerves."

A great light of joy came into Annie's eyes. "Oh, Margaret dear," she
said, "I can't do it yet but it does look as if some time before long
perhaps, I may be able myself to have a house at the seashore. I
think Sudbury beach would be lovely. It is always cool there, and
then you can come and stay with me whenever you like during the hot
weather. I will have a room fitted up for you in your favourite white
and gold and it shall be called Margaret's room and you can always
come, when you wish."

Margaret looked at the other girl with a slow surprise. "I do not
understand," said she.

"Of course, you don't. You know we have only had enough to live here
as we have done," said Annie with really childish glee, "but oh,
Margaret, you will be so glad. I have not told you before but now I
must for I know it will make you so happy, and I know I can trust you
never to betray me, for it is a great secret, a very great secret,
and it must not be known by other people at present. I don't know
just when it can be known, perhaps never, certainly not now."

Margaret looked at her with indifferent interrogation. Annie did not
realise how indifferent. A flood-tide of kindly joyful emotion does
not pay much attention to its banks. Annie continued. She looked
sweetly excited; her voice rose high above its usual pitch. "You
understand, Margaret dear, how it is," she said. "You see I am quite
unknown, that is, my name is quite unknown, and it would really
hinder the success of a book."

Margaret surveyed her with awakening interest. "A book?" said she.

"Yes, a book! Oh, Margaret, I know it will be hard for you to
believe, but you know I am very truthful. I--I wrote the book they
are talking about so much now. You know what I mean?"

"Not the--?"

"Yes, _The Poor Lady_,--the anonymous novel which people are talking
so much about and which sold better than any other book last week. I
wrote it. I really did, Margaret."

"You wrote it!"

Annie continued almost wildly. "Yes, I did, I did!" she cried, "and
you are the only soul that knows except the publishers. They said
they were much struck with the book but advised anonymous
publication, my name was so utterly unknown."

"You wrote