Bessie opened her eyes.  The card belonged to the editor of one of the most noted magazines of the day, but one whose principles she did not entirely approve.  What could be coming?

Her father was waiting for her.

‘Well, Miss Bessie,’ he said, laughing, ’Jane said the gentleman was very urgent in wanting to know when you would be in.  An offer, eh?’

‘Perhaps it is an offer, but not of THAT sort,’ said Bessie, and she explained what the unliterary Admiral had not understood.  He answered with a whistle.

‘Shall you do it, Bessie?’

‘I think not,’ she said quietly.

The editor was found waiting for her, with many apologies for bringing her home, and the Admiral was so delighted with his agreeableness as hardly to be able to tear himself away to bring home his wife.

The offer was, as Bessie expected, of excellent terms for a serial story—­terms that proved to her what was her own value, and in which she saw education for her sister Anne’s eldest boy.

‘Of course, there would be a certain adaptation to our readers.’

She knew what that meant, and there was that in her face which drew forth the assurance.

’Of course nothing you would not wish to say would be required, but it would be better not to press certain subjects.’

‘I understand,’ said Bessie.  ‘I doubt—­’

‘Perhaps you will think it over.’

Bessie’s first thought was, ’If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, then let my right hand forget her cunning.’  That had been the inward motto of her life.  Her second was, ‘Little Sam!  David’s mission room!’ There was no necessity to answer at once, and she knew the periodical rather by report than by reading, so she accepted the two numbers that were left with her, and promised to reply in a week.  It was a question on which to take counsel with her father, and with her own higher conscience and heavenly Guide.

The Admiral, though not much given to reading for its own sake, and perhaps inclined to think ephemeral literature the more trifling because his little daughter was a great light there, was anything but a dull man, and had an excellent judgment.  So Bessie, with all the comfort of a woman still with a wise father’s head over her, decided to commit the matter to him.  He was somewhat disappointed at finding her agreeable guest gone, and wished that dinner and bed had been offered.

Mrs. Merrifield and Susan were still a good deal excited about Arthurine’s complimentary friend, who they said seemed to belong to Fred Mytton, of whom some of the ladies had been telling most unpleasant reports, and there was much lamentation over the set into which their young neighbour had thrown herself.

‘Such a dress too!’ sighed Mrs. Merrifield.

‘And her headmistress has just arrived,’ said Susan, ’to make her worse than ever!’

’How comes a headmistress to be running about the country at this time of year?’ asked Bessie.