But Beloiseau was judicially calm.  “Yes, I rim-ember that portion.  Scientific-ally I foun’ that very interezting; but, like Mr. Chezter, I thing tha’z better art that the tom-cat be elimin-ate.”

“Well,” said the chair, “w’at we want to settle—­shall we accep’ that riv-ision of Mr. Chezter, to combine it in the book—­’Clock in the Sky,’ ‘Angel of the Lord,’ ‘Holy Crozz’—­seem’ to me that combination goin’ to sell like hot cake’.”

“Yes!  Agcept!” came promptly from two or three.

“Any oppose’?  There is not any oppose’—­Seraphine—­Marcel—­you’ll be so good to pazz those rif-reshment?”

XXXIV

“Tis gone—­to the pewblisher?”

M. De l’Isle, about to enter his double gate, had paused.  In his home, overhead, a clock was striking five of the tenth day after that second reading in the Castanados’ parlor.  The energetic inquiry was his.

A single step away, in the door of the iron-worker’s shop, Beloiseau, too quick for Chester, at whose elbow he stood, replied:  “Tis gone better!  Tis gone to the editor—­of the greatez’ magazine of the worl’!”

“Bravo!  Sinze how long?”

“A week,” Chester said.

“Hah! and his rip-ly?”

“Hasn’t come yet.”

“Ah, look out, now!  Look out he don’ steal that!  You di’n’ write him:  ‘Wire answer’?  You muz’ do that!  I’ll pay it myseff!”

“I thought I’d wait one more day.  He may have other manuscripts to consider.”

“Mr. Chezter, that manuscrip’ is not in a prize contess; ’tis only with itseff!  You di’n’ say that?”

“I—­implied it—­as gracefully as I could.”

“Ah! graze’—­the h-only way to write those fellow, tha’z with the big stick!  ‘Wire h-answer!’”

Beloiseau lifted a finger:  “I don’ think thad way.  Firz’ place, big stick or no, that hiztorie is sure to be accept’.”

M. De l’Isle let out a roar that seemed to tear the lining from his throat:  “Aw-w-w! tha’z not to compel the agceptanze; tha’z to scare them from stealing it!  And to privend that, there’s another thing you want to infer them:  that you billong to the Louisiana Branch of the Authors’ Protegtive H-union!  Ah, doubtlezz you don’t—­billong; but all the same you can infer them!”

Beloiseau’s response crowded Chester’s out:  “Well, they are maybe important, those stratagem’; but to me the chieve danger is if maybe that editor shou’n’ have the sagacitie—­artiztic—­commercial—­to perceive the brilliancy of thad story.”

“Never mine! in any’ow two days we’ll know.  Scipion!  The day avter those two, tha’z a pewblic holiday—­everything shut!”

“Yes, well?”

“If that news come, ‘accepted,’ all of us we’ll be so please’ that we’ll be compel to egsprezz that in a joy-ride! and even if ‘rifused,’ we’ll need that joy-ride to swallow the indignation.”