“It is being dramatized by Jameson of the ‘Daily Universe,’” said Quincy.

“I am well acquainted with Mr. Jameson,” remarked Rosa; “I belong to a social club of which he is the president.  He is a very talented young man and a great worker.  He once told me that when he began newspaper work he wrote eighteen hours out of twenty-four for a month, and nearly every night he woke up and made notes that he wrote out in the morning.  Do you believe in unconscious mental cerebration, Mr. Sawyer?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Quincy, laughing; “I never had ideas enough to keep my brain busy all day, much less supply it with work at night.”

“Mr. Sawyer is always unfair to himself,” remarked Alice to Miss Very.  “As for myself, I will answer your question in the affirmative.  I have often gone to bed with only the general idea of a story in my mind, and have awakened with the details all thought out and properly placed.”

“I think it best to postpone the reading of the last story until after supper,” said Quincy.

Alice assented, and, turning to Rosa, asked, “Do you like the country, Miss Very?”

“To speak honestly,” replied Rosa, “I do not.  I told Mr. Sawyer so on the train.  It is hotter in the country than it is in the city.  I can’t bear the ticking of a clock in my room, and I think crickets and owls are more nerve-destroying than clocks, and I positively detest anything that buzzes and stings, like bees, and wasps, and hornets.”

“But don’t you like cows, and sheep, and horses?” asked Alice; “I love them.”

“And I don’t,” said Rosa frankly.  “I like beefsteak and roast lamb, but I never saw a cow that didn’t have a ferocious glare in its eye when it looked at me.”  Both Quincy and Alice laughed heartily.  “As for horses,” continued Rosa, “I never drive alone.  When I’m with some one I alternate between hope and fear until I reach my destination.”

“I trust you were more hopeful than fearful on your way from Eastborough Centre,” said Quincy.

“Oh!  I saw at a glance,” remarked Rosa, “that you were a skilful driver, and I trusted you implicitly.”

“I have had to rely a great deal upon Mr. Sawyer,” remarked Alice, “and, like yourself, I have always placed the greatest confidence in him.  Huldy told me this morning, Mr. Sawyer, that I would miss you very much, and I know I shall.”

“But you will have Miss Very with you constantly,” said Quincy.

“Oh! she does not like the country,” continued Alice, “and she will get homesick in a little while.”

“One’s likes and one’s duties often conflict,” said Rosa; and a grave look settled upon her face.  “But how can you write your book down here, Miss Pettengill?  You will have to consult hundreds of books, if you intend to write an historical novel, as Mr. Sawyer told me you did.  You ought to have access to the big libraries in Boston, and, besides, in the second-hand bookstores you can buy such treasures for a mere song, if you will only spend the time to hunt for them.”