an upper storey, and there I walked into a comfortable
little room where a youngish man sat smoking a cigar at a table covered
with print and manuscript. I introduced myself, stated my business. "Can
you give me work of any kind on your paper?" "Well, what experience have
you had?" "None whatever." The editor smiled. "I'm very much afraid you
would be no use to us. But what do you think you could do?" Well now,
there was but one thing that by any possibility I could do. I asked him:
"Do you publish any fiction--short stories?" "Yes, we're always glad
of a short story, if it's good." This was a big daily paper; they have
weekly supplements of all conceivable kinds of matter. "Well," I said,
"if I write a story of English life, will you consider it?" "With
pleasure." I left him, and went out as if my existence were henceforth
provided for.'

He laughed heartily, and was joined by his hearers.

'It was a great thing to be permitted to write a story, but then--what
story? I went down to the shore of Lake Michigan; walked there for half
an hour in an icy wind. Then I looked for a stationer's shop, and
laid out a few of my remaining cents in the purchase of pen, ink, and
paper--my stock of all these things was at an end when I left New York.
Then back to the boarding-house. Impossible to write in my bedroom, the
temperature was below zero; there was no choice but to sit down in the
common room, a place like the smoke-room of a poor commercial hotel in
England. A dozen men were gathered about the fire, smoking, talking,
quarrelling. Favourable conditions, you see, for literary effort. But
the story had to be written, and write it I did, sitting there at the
end of a deal table; I finished it in less than a couple of days, a
good long story, enough to fill three columns of the huge paper. I stand
amazed at my power of concentration as often as I think of it!'

'And was it accepted?' asked Dora.

'You shall hear. I took my manuscript to the editor, and he told me to
come and see him again next morning. I didn't forget the appointment.
As I entered he smiled in a very promising way, and said, "I think
your story will do. I'll put it into the Saturday supplement. Call on
Saturday morning and I'll remunerate you." How well I remember that
word "remunerate"! I have had an affection for the word ever since. And
remunerate me he did; scribbled something on a scrap of paper, which
I presented to the cashier. The sum was eighteen do