“There, Mr. Hopkins, take your poems,—­they will give you a reputation in your village, I don’t doubt, which, is pleasant, but it will cost you a good deal of money to print them in a volume.  You are very young:  you can afford to wait.  Your genius is not ripe yet, I am confident, Mr. Hopkins.  These verses are very well for a beginning, but a man of promise like you, Mr. Hopkins, must n’t throw away his chance by premature publication!  I should like to make you a present of a few of the books we publish.  By and by, perhaps, we can work you into our series of poets; but the best pears ripen slowly, and so with genius.—­Where shall I send the volumes?”

Gifted answered, to parlor No. 6, Planet Hotel, where he soon presented himself to Master Gridley, who could guess pretty well what was coming.  But he let him tell his story.

“Shall I try the other publishers?” said the disconsolate youth.

“I would n’t, my young friend, I would n’t.  You have seen the best one of them—­all.  He is right about it, quite right:  you are young, and had better wait.  Look here, Gifted, here is something to please you.  We are going to visit the gay world together.  See what has been left here this forenoon.”

He showed him two elegant notes of invitation requesting the pleasure of Professor Byles Gridley’s and of Mr. Gifted Hopkins’s company on Thursday evening, as the guests of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 Carat Place.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Mrs. Clymer Ketchum’s party.

Myrtle Hazard had flowered out as beyond question the handsomest girl of the season, There were hints from different quarters that she might possibly be an heiress.  Vague stories were about of some contingency which might possibly throw a fortune into her lap.  The young men about town talked of her at the clubs in their free-and-easy way, but all agreed that she was the girl of the new crop,—­“best filly this grass,” as Livingston Jenkins put it.  The general understanding seemed to be that the young lawyer who had followed her to the city was going to capture her.  She seemed to favor him certainly as much as anybody.  But Myrtle saw many young men now, and it was not so easy as it would once have been to make out who was an especial favorite.

There had been times when Murray Bradshaw would have offered his heart and hand to Myrtle at once, if he had felt sure that she would accept him.  But he preferred playing the safe game now, and only wanted to feel sure of her.  He had done his best to be agreeable, and could hardly doubt that he had made an impression.  He dressed well when in the city,—­even elegantly,—­he had many of the lesser social accomplishments, was a good dancer, and compared favorably in all such matters with the more dashing young fellows in society.  He was a better talker than most of them, and he knew more about the girl he was dealing with than they could know.  “You have only got to say the word, Murray,” Mrs. Clymer Ketchum said to her relative, “and you can have her.  But don’t be rash.  I believe you can get Berengaria if you try; and there ’s something better there than possibilities.”  Murray Bradshaw laughed, and told Mrs. Clymer Ketchum not to worry about him; he knew what he was doing.