We avoided the response "Sure thing" by an appropriate circumlocution, and then he thundered back: "How in--nature--is a young writer to forecast the demands of current editors? If an editor is worth his salt--his Attic salt--he does not know himself what he wants, except by the eternal yearning of the editorial soul for something new and good. If he has any other demands, he is not a current editor, he is a stagnant editor. Is it possible that there is a superstition to the contrary?" "Apparently." "Then that would account for many things. But go on." "Go on yourself. You have not answered the question." "Oh, by all means," the author sardonically answered; "if the current editor has demands beyond freshness and goodness, let the young writer avoid the masters in literature and study the stories in the current magazines." "You are not treating the matter seriously," we expostulated. "Yes, I am--seriously, sadly, even tragically. I could not have imagined a condition of things so bad, even with the results all round us. Let us have the second question of your correspondent." "Here it is: '2. Has the unknown writer an equal chance with the well-known author, provided his work is up to the standard of the latter's?'" "Of the latter's?--of the latter's?--of the latter's?" Our friend whispered the phrase to himself before he groaned out: "What a frightful locution! Really, really, it is more than I can bear!" "For the cause you ought to bear anything. What do you really think?" "Why, if the former's work is as good as the latter's, why isn't the former's chance as good if the current editor's demands are for the same kind in the former's case as in the latter's? If the latter's aim is to meet the imaginary demands of the stagnant editor, then the former's work ought to be as attractive as the latter's. Ha, ha, ha!" He laughed wildly, and in order to recall him to himself we read the third question: "'3. Which is the more acceptable--a well-told story with a weak plot, or a poorly told story with a strong plot?'" "Oh, but that is a conundrum, pure and simple!" the author protested. "It is a poor parody on the old End-man pleasantry, 'Would you rather be as foolish as you look, or look as foolish as you are?' You are making it up!" "We assure you we are not. It is no more a conundrum than the others. Come: question!" "Well, in the first place, I should like to know what a plot is. Something that has occurred to you primarily as an effect from your experience or observation? Or something you have carpentered out of the old stuff of your reading, with a wooden hero and heroine reciprocally dying for each other, and a wooden villain trying to foil them?" "You had better ask a current editor or a stagnant. Do you confess yourself posed by this plain problem? Do you give it up?" "For the present. Perhaps I may gather light from the next question."