"But how stupid of me to describe all this! You've been there twenty times, of course, and remember the apple-green art-crafty furniture and potted palms and things. Several depressed-looking persons were fidgeting about, but my engraved card--score one for Hillhouse!--soon brought Maltby puffing out to me with both hands extended. Togo didn't quite cut him dead, but almost, and he insulted an entire roomful of stenographers on his way to the great man's sanctum. My first _sanctum_, Ambo! I did get a little thrill from that, in spite of Maltby. "Stop chattering, Susan--stick to facts. Yes, Phil, please. Fact One: Maltby was surprisingly flustered at first. He was, Ambo! He jumped to the conclusion that I was down for shopping or the theaters, and assumed of course you were with me. So you were, dear--our way! But I thought Maltby asked rather gingerly after you. Why? "Fact Two: I did my best to explain things, but Maltby doesn't believe yet I'm serious--seemingly he can't believe it, because he doesn't want to. That's always true of Maltby. He still thinks this must be a sudden spasm--not of virtue; thinks I've run away for an unholy lark. It suits him to think so. If I'm out on the loose he hopes to manage the whole _Mardi gras_, and he needn't hear what I say about needing work too distinctly. That merely annoyed him. But I did finally make him promise--while he wriggled--to read my three articles and give me a decision on them to-morrow. I had to promise to lunch with him then to make even that much headway.--Oof! "Meanwhile, I fared slightly better to-day. I took your letter to Mr. Sampson. The sign, Garnett & Co., almost frightened me off, though, Ambo; and you know I'm not easily frightened. But I've read so many of their books--wonderful books! I knew great men had gone before me into those dingy offices and left their precious manuscripts to strengthen and delight the world. Who was I to follow those footsteps? Luckily an undaunted messenger boy whistled on in ahead of me--so I followed his instead! By the time I had won past all the guardians of the _sanctum sanctorum_, my sentimental fit was over. Birch Street was herself again. "And Mr. Sampson proved all you promised--rather more! The dearest odd old man, full of blunt kindness and sudden whimsy. I think he liked me. I know I liked him. But he didn't like me as I did him--at first sight. Togo's fault, of course. Why didn't you tell me Mr. Sampson has a democratic prejudice against aristocratic dogs? I must learn to leave poor Togo at home--if there ever is such a place!--when I'm looking for work; I may even have to give up your precious soul-and-body-warming furs. Between them, they belie every humble petition I utter. Sister and I may have to eat Togo yet.