dam:

After reading your marine story, published in the Cosmopolitan
Magazine, we have decided you are just the person to write a new serial
we have in mind.

Would you be interested to call on us at your earliest opportunity?

Yours very truly,
J. R. Carson."

Owen sealed, addressed and, stamped the letter and enclosed it in a
larger envelope, which he addressed to a friend in Philadelphia, with
instructions to post the enclosure in that city.

He did not trust the mailing of the double letter to a servant, but,
putting on his motor togs, prepared to ride to Westbury.

"Well, he's got a reprieve; he's going to stay with us one more day,"
Pauline cried, happily, as she met Owen in the hall.

For the flash of an instant something twinged at the cold heart of the
secretary. The bright beauty of Pauline, her happiness, her love for
her foster brother, struck home the first realization of something
missing--and never to be achieved--in his grim existence. Perhaps
for the moment Raymond Owen had a dim understanding of the value of
innocence.

The next afternoon Pauline stood on the veranda bidding Harry goodbye.

"I hate to go, Polly, but I must," he said. "I hate to leave you with
that--secretary."

"Harry, please don't start again on that. You know I don't agree with
you, and--and I don't want to quarrel with you when you're going
away."

"Very well," he said, embracing her, "but don't get into any of your
scrapes while I am away. Remember, it's a long way to Chicago."

"And Tipperary," she laughed. "Goodbye, darling boy, and run home the
minute you can."

"I will. Goodbye."

Pauline had turned dejectedly back toward the house when the sound of
steps on the walk drew her attention. It was the postman.

"I'll take them," she said, extending her hand.

She ran over the envelopes swiftly until she came to one which bore the
corner mark of a publishing concern in Philadelphia. She had never
heard of the firm of Carson & Brown, but, to her enthusiasm of young
authorship, the very name "publisher" was magical. She opened the
letter hastily and read.

For a moment she stood spellbound with happiness. The realization of
her dreams was at hand. Publishers were calling for her work instead
of sending it back when she sent it to them.

With a glad cry, and waving the treasured letter, she rushed out into
the garden to Owen.

"It's happened!" she sang, gaily. "I am discovered."

"You a