“Oh, are you the girl who won the prize?” Bambi nodded.

“You are?” she protested her amazement.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Bambi assured her.

“Of course Mr. Strong will see you.  He didn’t understand.”  She was off in great haste, and back in a jiffy.

“Come right in,” she invited.

Bambi wanted to run.  Her breath came in little, short gasps.  She wished she could take hold of the other girl’s hand and hold on tight.  A door stood open into an outside office, and several clerks stared at her.  The sanctum door was open.

“Mr. Strong, this is Mrs. Jocelyn,” said her guide, and the door closed behind her.  A tall, pleasant-faced young man rose and tried to cover his surprise.

“How do you do?” he said cordially, with outstretched hand.

Bambi laid hers in it.

“I’m frightened to death,” she answered.

“Frightened—­of me?”

“Well, not you, exactly, but editorism.”  He laughed.

“I can match amazement with your terror, then.  You are a surprise.”

“You are disappointed in me,” she said quickly.

“I expected a—­a—­well, a bigger woman, and older.”

“I see.  You didn’t expect a half portion?”

“Exactly,” he smiled.  “Well, we were extremely interested in your story.”

“I am so glad.”

“What else have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“That your first story?”

“Yes.”

“How did you happen to write it, Mrs. Jocelyn?”

“I am looking for a career,” she began, but his surprised glance stopped her.  “You see I ought to dance.  That’s what the Lord intended me to do.  I can dance.”

“I can imagine that.”

“But dancing would take me away from home so much, and the ’Heavenly Twins’ need me so.”

“Twins?  You haven’t twins!”

“Yes.  Oh, no, not real ones, but my father and Jarvis.”

“Jarvis?”

“Jarvis is a poet and a dreamer.”

“Is Jarvis a friend?”

“Oh, no, I am married to him.  They are both so helpless.  My father is a mathematician.  I have to take care of them both, you see.”

“You mean in a financial way?”

“My father makes a fair income, and of course Jarvis may sell his plays, but when I married him I expected to support him.”

“He is delicate, I suppose?”

She laughed.

“He’s six feet and over, wide and strong as a battleship.”

“And he expects you to support him?”

“No.  He protests, but you see I took a sort of advantage of him when I married him.  He didn’t want to marry me.”

“You are a most extraordinary young woman,” remarked Mr. Strong.

“Oh, no, I am usual enough.  I help Jarvis with his plays, and what I say seems to have sense.  Do you know?”

“I do.”

“So just for fun I wrote the story, and just for fun I sent it to your contest.”