Section 13. These were the circumstances of the writing of “The Hearer of Truth”. It was completed in six weeks, and it did not satisfy its author, the finishing of it brought him no joy. But that, though he did not realize it, was the one circumstance in its favor--the less it satisfied him, the more chance there was that the world would know what it was about. He had the manuscript copied, and then he sent it off to a magazine in Boston, whose editor had been one of his hundred great men, and had promised to read the new manuscript at once. Meantime Thyrsis sent for some books to review, and got to work at another plot to be submitted to the editor of the “Treasure Chest”. For their own treasure-chest was now all but empty, and one could not live forever upon blueberries and fish. Day by day they waited; and at last, one fateful afternoon, the farmer came with some provisions and their mail. There was a letter from Boston, and Thyrsis opened it and read as follows: “I have read your manuscript, ‘The Hearer of Truth’, and I wish to tell you of the very great pleasure it has given me. It is noble and fine, and amazingly clever as well. I must say frankly that I was astonished at the qualities of maturity and restraint it shows. I think it quite certain that we shall wish to use it as a serial; but before I can say anything definite, the manuscript will have to be read by my associates. In the meantime I wished to tell you personally how highly I think of your work.” Thyrsis read this, and then, without a word, he passed it on to Corydon. As soon as the farmer’s back was turned, the two fell into each other’s arms, and all but wept. It was victory, beyond all question. The magazine might pay as much as five hundred dollars for the serial rights--and with that start, they would surely be safe. Besides that, it would mean recognition for Thyrsis--the world would have to discuss his work! Doing pot-boilers was easy after such a triumph as that. They even treated themselves to holidays--they purchased a quart of ice-cream on one day, and hired a boat and went picnicking on another. Thyrsis got out his fiddle once again, and even became so reckless as to inquire about the price of a “practice-clavier” for Corydon. Also he began inquiring as to the cost of houses; when they got the money they would build themselves a little cabin here--a cabin just the size of the tent, but with a room upstairs where Thyrsis could do his work. After that they would be free from all the world--they would never go back to be haunted by the sight of “Sorrow barricadoed evermore Within the walls of cities.” Section 14. So a month passed by; and Thyrsis wrote again to the editor, and was told that they were still discussing the story. And then, after two more weeks, there came another letter; and this was the way it read: