lished by the house for which he is
reader. He says Jameson will get your other story into one of the Sunday
papers, and he will have his dramatic version ready for production next
fall. He can't tell how much you will make out of these just yet; the
magazine pays by the page and the newspaper by the column, and, of
course, Jameson will give you part of his royalty, if he gets the play
on."

"Why, Mr. Sawyer, you are showering wealth upon me like another Count of
Monte Cristo."

"But you have not heard all," continued Quincy. "Leopold has placed your
two songs with a music publishing house, and you will get a royalty on
them in time. He says they don't pay any royalty on the first three
hundred copies, and perhaps they won't sell; the public taste on sheet
music is very fickle. Then, that composer, I can never remember his
name, is at work on your poem, 'The Lord of the Sea.' He told Leopold he
was going to make it his _opus vitae_, the work of his life, you know,
and he is talking it up to the director of the Handel and Haydn
Society."

"How true it is," said Alice, "that gladness quickly follows sadness! I
was so unhappy this morning", but now the world never looked so bright
to me. You have brushed away all my sorrows, Mr. Sawyer, and I am really
very happy to hear the good news that you have told me."

"There is one sorrow that I have not yet relieved you of," continued
Quincy.

"And that?" asked Alice, brushing back the wavy golden hair from her
forehead, and looking up at him with her bright blue eyes, which bore no
outward sign of the dark cloud that dimmed their vision,--"and that
is?"--she repeated.

"That letter," taking the hand that held it in both of his own. "If I am
to get that noon train I have no time to lose."

"Before you take it," said Alice, "you must promise me that it shall not
be opened, and no eye but Lindy's must ever rest upon it."

"You have my word," he replied.

"Then take it," said she; and she released her hold upon it.

He took the letter with one hand, his other hand still retaining its
grasp upon hers.

"I go," said Quincy, assuming a bantering tone, "upon your quest, fair
lady. If I return victorious, what shall be my reward?"

"Gallant knights," said Alice, as she withdrew her hand from his, "do
not bargain for their reward until they have fulfilled their trust."

"I accept the reproof," said Quincy gravely.

"It was not so intended, Sir Knight," responded Alice bri