as. Yes, and take one of the stories with which she is always
bombarding me, hanged if I won't!'

"You can see it's worth trying for, old girl. Six guineas down for the
interview, and say another four for a short story, not counting getting
into print at last. Go in and win, say I. I'm sending with this an
English mag. or two, with interviews in to show you the style of thing
they need.

"You can easily find him out; he's sure to be at one of the hotels. Dog
him on a walk some day, and then when you've got him cornered somewhere
where he can't escape, whip out your note-book and make him hold up his
arms. Butter him up a bit, and he'll give in; he's not been famous long
enough not to feel inclined to purr if you rub him the right way.

"He's written two or three books; _Liars All_ is one of them. They're
not in your line, of course, but I must say they're not at all bad.
Well, go in and win.

"Yours,

"Tom.

"PS.--I banked thirteen pounds six to-day for Grace--more royalties from
the _Cookery Book._ Why don't you try something in the same line?
_Poultry Keeping for Retrenched Incomes_, for instance; it would sell
like penny ice creams on a heat-wave day."

Miss Bibby, after reading this letter for the third time that day,
hastened into the dining-room where the children were awaiting her, a
red spot on her cheek, and a hole burning inside her sleeve near her
elbow, where, being pocketless as any modern woman, she had tucked the
letter.

[Illustration: "She exacted half-an-hour a day at the piano, from each
of the little girls."]

She kept her thoughts away from it only by desperate expedients, such as
sternly reminding herself that her time at present was paid for by Judge
Lomax, and therefore belonged absolutely to him. Later in the day it
would be a different matter, but now to her duties,--

"Pauline, Lynn, get out your pens this moment;--no, Muffie, you must
write in pencil, you have spoiled the cloth with the ink you have
spilled;--yes, yes, in a minute; Max, you sit here, dear, on the nice
high chair, and then you can reach beautifully."

Max firmly refused the nice high chair, which he long had considered
beneath the dignity of a man with a pocket, and had to be established as
usual on two or three fat music books placed on a "grown-up" chair.

There were no regular lessons during the holidays, but Mrs. Lomax having
said vaguely, at leaving, that she hoped the little girls would not have
quite f