"What does it all mean? How do this man's plans affect ours? I don't understand what you are driving at, Margot, but I should love to go to Scotland! The mountains in the dawning, and the shadows at night, and the dark green of the firs against the blue of the heather--oh, wouldn't it be life to see it all again, after this terrible brick city! How clever of you to think of Scotland!" "My dear boy, if it had been Southend it would have been all the same. We are going where Mr Elgood goes, for Mr Elgood, you must know, is the editor of _The Loadstar_--the man of all others who could give you a helping hand. Now, Ron, I am quite prepared for you to be shocked, but I know that you will agree in the end, so please give in as quickly as possible, and don't make a fuss. You have been sending unknown poems to unknown editors for the last two years, with practically no result. It's not the fault of your poems--of that I am convinced. In ten years' time every one will rave about them, but you can't afford to wait ten years, or even ten months. Our only hope is to interest some big literary light, whose verdict can't be ignored, and persuade him to plead your cause, or at least to give you such encouragement as will satisfy father that you are not deluded by your own conceit. I've thought and thought, and lain awake thinking, till I feel quite tired out, and then at last I hit on this plan,--to find out where Mr Elgood is going for his holidays, and go to the same place, so that he can't help getting to know us, whatever he may wish. Ordinary methods are useless at this stage of affairs. We must try a desperate remedy for a desperate situation!" "I'm sure I am willing. I would try any crazy plan that had a possibility of success for the next three months. But yours isn't possible. The landlady won't take ladies. That's an unsurmountable objection at the start." But Margot only preened her head with a smile of undaunted self- confidence.