"That's so. Do you have to enclose enough to bring them back? I don't like that. Seems to me it's just tempting Providence. If they want to send them back, they ought to pay for doing it. I say we just enclose a note taking it for granted they'll keep it, and tell them where to send the money. And never put a stamp in sight for them to think of using up." "We can't do that. It's bad manners." "Well, I have half a dollar," admitted Carol reluctantly. After that the weeks passed by. The twins saw finally the shadow of disappointment leaving Connie's face, and another expression of absorption take its place. "She's started another one," Lark said, wise in her personal experience. And when there came the starry rapt gaze once more, they knew that this one, too, had gone to meet its fate. But before the second blow fell, the twins gained their victory. They embraced each other feverishly, and kissed the precious check a hundred times, and insisted that Connie was the cleverest little darling that ever lived on earth. Then, when Connie, with their father and aunt, was sitting in unsuspecting quiet, they tripped in upon her. [Illustration: We enclose our check for forty-five dollars] "We have something to read to you," said Carol beaming paternally at Connie. "Listen attentively. Put down your paper, father. It's important. Go on, Larkie." "My dear Miss Starr," read Lark. "We are very much pleased with your story,"--Connie sprang suddenly from her chair--"your story, 'When the Rule worked Backwards.' We are placing it in one of our early numbers, and shall be glad at any time to have the pleasure of examining more of your work. We enclose our check for forty-five dollars. Thanking you, and assuring you of the satisfaction with which we have read your story, I am, "Very cordially yours,"-- "Tra, lalalalala!" sang the twins, dancing around the room, waving, one the letter, the other the check. Connie's face was pale, and she caught her head with both hands, laughingly nervously. "I'm going round," she gasped. "Stop me." Carol promptly pushed her down in a chair and sat upon her lap. "Pretty good,--eh, what?" "Oh, Carol, don't say that, it sounds awful," cautioned Lark. "What do you think about it, Connie? Pretty fair boost for a struggling young author, don't you think? Family, arise! The Chautauqua salute! We have arrived. Connie is an author. Forty-five dollars!" "But however did you do it?" wondered Connie breathlessly. "Why, we sent it out, and--" "Just once?" "Alas, no,--we sent it seven times." "Oh, girls, how could you! Think of the stamps! I'm surprised you had the money." "Remember that last quarter we borrowed of you? Well!" Connie laughed excitedly. "Oh, oh!--forty-five dollars! Think of it. Oh, father!"