It astonished her to see the facility with which her pen danced humorous jigs, flung off diamonds of wit, and set in motion rippling waves of laughter. It was strange that she who was but emerging from the valley of despair, and whose life so far had had in it but little of the glitter of pleasure, could write as one who knew the light, the joyous, the mirthful, the happy side of existence. Yet even in her most jaunty and jubilant products, here and there would be a bold, strong stroke of another kind, which made the reader know that he was following no light soul. In all she wrote, whether grave or gay, were the “fresh eyes,” to which we give the name of originality, and another quality, for which we have no name, which moves us, we know not why. When it began to be rumored that the _Register’s_ new writer was a woman, the smart people, who knew everything, shook their heads and sniffed incredulously, saying that there was too much force in the work; that the style was not womanish--it was Prescott in disguise. They expected the apron-strings to flutter conspicuously from every page prepared by a feminine hand. For them genius has sex and that sex is always male. It must not be understood that these early efforts of my heroine were worthy a place among the works of genius. They were only fresh, spirited, striking sketches of life as their author saw it, and they went into the great ocean of newspaper literature here, there and all about, that lives but for a day. Some of them, it is true, found a pathetic scrap-book immortality. Others were picked up by mightier periodicals than the _Register_, and given a flatteringly wide circulation, and a few met the dreary fate of getting into imposingly bound collections of “Literary Gems,” there to rest in undisturbed security on village parlor tables for many a year to come. In a few weeks Mrs. Doring had the felicity to be installed as associate editor of the _Register_. Her salary was not munificent, as salaries usually are in fiction. Let no one imagine that all aspirants get an opportunity to do newspaper work and ascend the ladder as easily. Her good luck in this particular could be traced to her fitness for the position. Prescott soon discovered that besides having extraordinary ability and originality as a writer, she had what he called the “editorial instinct,” which, being interpreted, meant that she knew instinctively what an attractive newspaper should contain.