Theodora eyed him askance, trying to read his thoughts. Even before he spoke, she knew his decision, and she seized him by the beard and kissed him rapturously. "Oh, you dear man!" "But I haven't said yes," he protested. "You are going to; your eyes show it. Oh, Papa McAlister, you are such a dear!" "Am I? Well, my girl, you shall have your way. All in all, I think your little plan has no harm in it. I was thinking of something else, though." "Oh, what?" He smiled at her disappointed face. "Nothing bad. It is only this. If your courage holds out, and if you cultivate that crazy handwriting of yours a little, perhaps when Sullivan goes to Boston, next fall, I'll see what you can do with my bills. I can't pay as well as Mr. Huntington; but it may help on a little." "Oh, papa!" Ten minutes later, Theodora looked up into her father's face. Her own face was flushed, and her lips were unsteady. "There's something else, papa." "What now, my girl?" She drew a letter from her pocket. "It's not much, only a little bit of a beginning. Nobody knows it, and I wanted to tell you first." He took the letter, opened it with a feigned curiosity, more to gratify her whim than from any real interest in what it could contain. He read it, glanced at the slip of paper it enclosed, then bent over and kissed her scarlet cheek. "My girlie, I congratulate you." It was a letter from a well-known magazine for children, accepting a story from Miss Theodora McAlister, and suggesting that another story of equal merit might find a welcome, later on in the season. For the next three weeks, Theodora kept the secret of her experiment to herself. "It's all right. Papa knows," was all the reply she could be induced to make to the questions which assailed her from all sides, in regard to the way she was spending her Saturday mornings. It would be impossible to say how long the mystery would have been kept up if she had had her own way. One Saturday noon, however, Phebe came bouncing into the dining-room, her eyes blazing with righteous indignation and injured pride. "Theodora McAlister, I'm ashamed of you, perfectly ashamed!" "You've said so before," Theodora answered tranquilly, while she went on eating her dinner. "What is it, this time?" "You've gone into a store." Phebe's tone was one of scathing scorn. "Yes. What of it?" "My sister a clerk in a common store!" "Yes, in Huntington's." "But it might have been a grocery." "It might have been an undertaker's," Theodora answered sharply. "I don't see what difference it makes to you." "Is this really true, Teddy?" Mrs. McAlister questioned. Theodora glanced about her at the astonished faces of her family. Surprise and disapproval seemed to be meeting her on every hand. Even Allyn stopped eating his bread and milk, and pointed his spoon at her accusingly. Then she turned to her father, who was entering the room.