ronted.

"What should you consider the best news--or not news exactly; the best
thing--in the world?"

"Why, I don't know. Has the play been a great success in Chicago?"

"Better than that!" she shouted, and she brought an open letter from
behind her, and flourished it before him, while she went on
breathlessly: "It's from Godolphin, and of course I opened it at once,
for I thought if there was anything worrying in it, I had better find it
out while you were gone, and prepare you for it. He's sent you a check
for $300--twelve performances of the play--and he's written you the
sweetest letter in the world, and I take back everything I ever said
against him! Here, shall I read it? Or, no, you'll want to read it
yourself. Now, sit down at your desk, and I'll put it before you, with
the check on top!"

She pushed him into his chair, and he obediently read the check first,
and then took up the letter. It was dated at Chicago, and was written
with a certain histrionic consciousness, as if Godolphin enjoyed the
pose of a rising young actor paying over to the author his share of the
profits of their joint enterprise in their play. There was a list of the
dates and places of the performances, which Maxwell noted were chiefly
matinees; and he argued a distrust of the piece from this fact, which
Godolphin did not otherwise betray. He said that the play constantly
grew upon him, and that with such revision as they should be able to
give it together when he reached New York, they would have one of the
greatest plays of the modern stage. He had found that wherever he gave
it the better part of his audience was best pleased with it, and he felt
sure that when he put it on for a run the houses would grow up to it in
every way. He was going to test it for a week in Chicago; there was no
reference to his wish that Maxwell should have been present at the
rehearsals there; but otherwise Godolphin's letter was as candid as it
was cordial.

Maxwell read it with a silent joy which seemed to please his wife as
well as if he had joined her in rioting over it. She had kept the lunch
warm for him, and now she brought it in from the kitchen herself and set
it before him, talking all the time.

"Well, now we can regard it as an accomplished fact, and I shall not
allow you to feel any anxiety about it from this time forward. I
consider that Godolphin has done his whole duty by it. He has kept the
spirit of his promises if he hasn't the letter