“Well, look here,” interrupted Bella, “Mrs. Mar’s a person you can’t take risks with. Do you mind going up-stairs and showing her this? Just ask her what she thinks of it—as though I’d brought it to you, you know.” Harry departed on the errand, while Bella returned to the others, but her emissary was back directly with a doubtful face, and Mrs. Mar following not far behind. “Well?” Bella demanded in an undertone. “Oh—a—I asked her if she didn’t think it was an awfully fine one, and all she said was: ‘The Lord was very good. He had delivered her many years ago from gold pencils.’” “What on earth does she mean?” “Haven’t the ghost—’Sh!” “Oh, how do you do, dear Mrs. Mar!” Bella flew to embrace the lady, who received the advance with self-possession, but not without a glint of pleasure. Harry still stood with the intended tribute in his hand. Mrs. Mar’s eye fell upon it critically. “Is it true—a—you don’t think much of gold pencils?” hazarded Bella. “Oh, if you’re a person of leisure—” “What’s that got to do with it?” “It’s a pursuit in itself, keeping a gold pencil going.” “Oh, no. Look. This one goes beautifully.” Bella took it from Harry and shot it in and out. “That’s just its wiliness. Wait till you _need_ it.” “Really this one’s very good. It’s warranted—” “_I’ll_ warrant it’ll always be wanting a new lead. Especially at the moment when you can’t possibly stop to niggle about with fitting one in. Then you’ll put the thing away till you can take an afternoon off just to get your handsome gold pencil into working order again. And when you’ve done that and gone thoroughly into the subject, you’ll find there isn’t a store on the Pacific coast that keeps your size leads. No lead in any store will ever fit your pencil. Then you’ll write to New York to a manufactory. Then you’ll wait a month, maybe two. Then, by the time you’ve got them, you’ll find the pencil has forgotten how to assimilate leads. It will break them off short and spit them out. If you try to discipline the pencil, it’ll turn sulky and refuse to open. Or it stays open and refuses to shut.” “I assure you, Mrs. Mar, _this_ one—” “And I assure you, Miss Bella Wayne, that even if you’re under the special favor of Providence, and none of these things happen, you’ll still find you can never get the work out of a twenty-dollar gold pencil that you can out of a five-cent cedar.” Bella was catching Harry’s eye and trying not to laugh.