“I don’t know.”

“Well, nearer three times ten than three years, and I am still learning.  You writing fellows never want to learn your trade like other people.  You talk about inspiration and uplifting the public, and all that, and you want to do it in six months.  You go to work on this new idea, and come back here when you’ve finished it.  Then it will be time enough to talk about my end of it.”

Jarvis rose.

“I am obliged to you, sir.  I shall do it.”

[Illustration:  HE TAUGHT HIMSELF TO ABANDON HIS OLD INTROSPECTIVE HABITS DURING THESE DAYS ON THE BOX.]

Mr. Frohman held out his hand.  “Good luck to you.  I shall hope for rain.”

“Thanks!  Good morning, sir.”

With the perfect ease of a lack of self-consciousness Jarvis made his exit, leaving Mr. Frohman with a twinkle in his eyes.

The rest of the day a certain blond cabman on the avenue drove to Franklin Simon’s when he was ordered to Altman’s, drew up in state at McCreery’s when he was told Bonwit Teller’s.

“You must be drunk, driver,” said one passenger.  She held up her dollar bill, indignantly, to dismiss him.  He lifted his hat, perfunctorily, and swept a bow.

“I am, madam, intoxicated with my own thoughts.”  He rattled off down the street, leaving the woman rooted to the curb with astonishment.

He taught himself to abandon his old, introspective habits during these days on the box, and forced his attention to fix itself upon the crowds, his customers, the whole uptown panorama, so different from the night crowds he sought.  He recalled Bambi’s saying to him that until he learned not to exclude any of the picture he would never do big work.  Her words had a tantalizing way of coming back to him, things she had tossed off in the long ago of their visit to New York together.  He longed for her vivid phrasing, her quick dart at the heart of the things they talked of.  It seemed incredible now that he had ever taken her as a matter of course.  As for the enigma of her marrying him, he never ceased to ponder it.

True to his promise, he went to call on the “Probation Lady,” as he named her, and they became friends.  He admired her enormously, and owed much to her wise philosophy.  He asked her to go riding in his cab, and she accepted without hesitation.  They rode from five to seven, one afternoon, conversing through the shutter in the top of the cab, laughing and enjoying themselves hugely, to the great amusement of pedestrians along the way.

At the end of two weeks he and Hicks divided the spoils, and Hicks resumed the box.  It cemented a friendship which Jarvis enjoyed greatly, for the old Englishman was ripe with humour and experience.  He, too, taught the teacher.

The day after he was free from cab duty Jarvis went to the Little Theatre to get a report from “The Vision.”  The secretary said Mr. Ames had asked to see him when he came in.  He found him a lean student type of man, finished in manner, and pleasant of speech.