“Well, just for fun we gave you the prize.”

She laughed.

“We want a whole series of tales about that girl.  She’s new.”

“How many is a series?”

“Oh, eight or ten, if you have material enough.”

“Oh, yes, I live—­I mean I get material all the time.”

“What do you want for them?”

“Oh, I’d like a lot for them.  New York is full of things I want.”

He laughed again.

“We could give you $150 a story.  That would be $1,500 for the ten.  Then, eventually, we would make a book of them, and you would get 10 per cent. on that.”

“A book?  A book, with illustrations, and covers, and all?”

He nodded.  “Are those terms satisfactory?”

“Oh, mercy, yes.  It sounds like a fortune!”

“When could you begin, Mrs. Jocelyn?”

“Right away, to-day!”

“Well, that will hardly be necessary.  If you send copy to us by the fifth, that will be soon enough.”

“All right.  Jarvis is selling a play to-day, so probably we will be rich shortly.”

“To whom is Mr. Jocelyn selling his play?”

“Belasco.”

“So!  That’s fine!  You’ll never have to support him, at that rate.”

“He doesn’t know about my getting the prize and coming to see you, and all.  I want to keep it a secret for a time.”

“I understand.”

“It would be rather awful for me to be famous first.”

“I don’t know about that.  It would be selfish of your husband to stand in your way.”

“Oh, Jarvis is selfish.  He’s utterly, absorbedly selfish, but not just that way.  He’d never stand in my way.”

“I’d like to meet Jarvis.”

“Well, when the secret is out I’ll bring him here.  He’s unusual, Jarvis is.  Some day he’ll be great.”

“He is in luck to be Mr. to your Mrs.”

She flushed furiously.

“Yes, I think he is,” she admitted, as she rose.

“How long are you to be in New York?”

“As long as your five hundred holds out.”

“You must come in again.  If I can be of any use to you, while you are here, give you letters to anybody, have you meet people, I’ll be delighted to do so.”

“You’re a very nice man,” said she.  “You have removed the ban from the whole tribe of editors in twenty minutes’ talk.”

“That’s a tribute worth living for.  It has been a delightful twenty minutes.  Come in again.”

Out in the office, and in the impressive reception room, interested faces turned toward her.  The girl who had acted sponsor for her nodded.  She tasted the first fruits of success, and they were sweet.  The only imperfection was the fact she could not tell Jarvis.  She could not brag of her triumphs nor repeat the friendly chat with Mr. Strong.  It would be such fun to see his surprise at the news—­he had so lately patronized her.  “You are not the stuff of which creative artists are made, of course.”