"But as something retrospective, speculative, I believe it would make a hit.
There's so much going on now about social questions; I guess people would like to read it." "I do not know that my work is intended to amuse people," said the Colonel, with some state.
"Mah goodness! Ah only wish it WAS, then," said his daughter; and she added: "Yes, Mr.Fulkerson, the Colonel will be very glad to submit po'tions of his woak to yo' edito'.

We want to have some of the honaw.
Perhaps we can say we helped to stop yo' magazine, if we didn't help to stawt it." They all laughed at her boldness, and Fulkerson said: "It 'll take a good deal more than that to stop 'Every Other Week'.

The Colonel's whole book couldn't do it." Then he looked unhappy, for Colonel Woodburn did not seem to enjoy his reassuring words; but Miss Woodburn came to his rescue.

"You maght illustrate it with the po'trait of the awthoris daughtaw, if it's too late for the covah." "Going to have that in every number, Miss Woodburn!" he cried.
"Oh, mah goodness!" she said, with mock humility.
Alma sat looking at her piquant head, black, unconsciously outlined against the lamp, as she sat working by the table.

"Just keep still a moment!" She got her sketch-block and pencils, and began to draw; Fulkerson tilted himself forward and looked over her shoulder; he smiled outwardly; inwardly he was divided between admiration of Miss Woodburn's arch beauty and appreciation of the skill which reproduced it; at the same time he was trying to remember whether March had authorized him to go so far as to ask for a sight of Colonel Woodburn's manuscript.
He felt that he had trenched upon March's province, and he framed one apology to the editor for bringing him the manuscript, and another to the author for bringing it back.
"Most Ah hold raght still like it was a photograph ?" asked Miss Woodburn.