“I came in to ask if there was anything I could do for you, Allan? I am afraid you are pretty uncomfortable in spite of your denial of the fact. I have been wishing there was some way in which I could make up to you for the loss of your verses, but instead I am more than ever under obligation. I don’t intend to allow myself to think of what might have happened this morning except for your presence of mind and courage. What are you reading?” “A volume of new plays, some one seems to have sent Mrs. Burton. I did nothing for you this morning; it was David Hale who really rescued us both, Mrs. Graham. Yet there is something you can do for me. I wonder if I am asking too much? Could you, would you ask Mrs. Burton to glance over a one-act play I lately have been struggling to write? A single word, or suggestion from her would be the greatest help and inspiration to me, more than you can dream. It is not that I think my little play is worth anything, yet if she only considers the idea worth while, why, some day I may be able to do something with it.” “Why, of course Polly shall read your play and give you her criticism, although I warn you, she may not be flattering. Doubtless she would have read it had you asked her yourself. She certainly will now that I shall allow her no peace of mind until the fact is accomplished. You are going to stay with us a few days until you have recovered, but Bettina will walk over to your cabin with you to-morrow and bring back your manuscript. We shall see this manuscript does not come to grief. Good-by, go back to your reading, I’ll not interrupt you any further.” But Allan Drain did not return to his reading; instead he allowed the leaves of his book to close while he sat gazing into the fire. He had been afraid he would not have sufficient courage for the request he had just made, but now having gone through the ordeal he wondered whether or not he regretted his own act. Doubtless the little play was no good and Mrs. Burton would be tired and bored by being forced to devote a half hour to it. Moreover, she was too sincere an artist not to give him her true opinion, and afterwards he would never have the steadfastness to go on with his writing, knowing her estimate of his work. This winter was going to be difficult enough, so why not better have kept this dream at least until the spring, when he need not be so much indoors? On this occasion Allan Drain did not hear the door open, nor glance up until Mary Gilchrist stood beside him. “I met Mrs. Burton in the hall and she suggested that I come in and offer to read to you if you will allow me. She said you were having some trouble in trying to turn over the pages of your book. I do not read very well, but it would give me a great deal of pleasure if you will let me make the attempt. Then if you can’t bear my effort, why I’ll stop and not be in the least offended.”