I never was anxious about it a moment, except, as you say, Mr.Fulkerson, I was afraid it might be too good." They went on in an antiphony of praise till March said: "Really, I don't see what's left me but to strike for higher wages.

I perceive that I'm indispensable." "Why, old man, you're coming in on the divvy, you know," said Fulkerson.
They both laughed, and when Fulkerson was gone, Mrs.March asked her husband what a divvy was.
"It's a chicken before it's hatched." "No! Truly ?" He explained, and she began to spend the divvy.
At Mrs.Leighton's Fulkerson gave Alma all the honor of the success; he told her mother that the girl's design for the cover had sold every number, and Mrs.Leighton believed him.
"Well, Ah think Ah maght have some of the glory," Miss Woodburn pouted.
"Where am Ah comin' in ?" "You're coming in on the cover of the next number," said Fulkerson.
"We're going to have your face there; Miss Leighton's going to sketch it in." He said this reckless of the fact that he had already shown them the design of the second number, which was Beaton's weird bit of gas-country landscape.
"Ah don't see why you don't wrahte the fiction for your magazine, Mr.
Fulkerson," said the girl.
This served to remind Fulkerson of something.

He turned to her father.
"I'll tell you what, Colonel Woodburn, I want Mr.March to see some chapters of that book of yours.

I've been talking to him about it." "I do not think it would add to the popularity of your periodical, sir," said the Colonel, with a stately pleasure in being asked.

"My views of a civilization based upon responsible slavery would hardly be acceptable to your commercialized society." "Well, not as a practical thing, of course," Fulkerson admitted.