"How pleased you seem! Oh yes, I'll ask you. But perhaps you may be"-- her eyes twinkled--"previously engaged." CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. One dark December morning Theo found a letter lying on her plate on the breakfast-table; not the long, white envelope addressed in her own writing, which her soul abhorred, but a business-looking epistle, stamped on which was the magic name of _The Casket Magazine_. She gulped, tore open the envelope, and read the golden news: "I have read with much interest your original little story, and have pleasure in accepting it for the magazine." "Your original little story--have pleasure in accepting it." Theo gulped again, and laughed with the tears in her eyes. Oh, how often she had dreamt of this moment! How she had longed for it, and sickened with dread lest it should never come! She turned a radiant face upon her sisters, and waved her letter in the air. "Hurrah! At last! From Mr Hammond! He has accepted my story, and calls it very original. A story in the _Casket_! Girls, do you realise it? Do you realise how you are honoured by sitting at the same table with _me_!" She laughed again, in tremulous fashion, and Madge bowed elaborately, coffee-cup in hand. "Your health, my dear! I look towards you! You have done it this time. To be a contributor to the _Casket_ is like being hung on the line in the Academy. Sha'n't I brag about you at the Slade?" "It is simply splendid, dear. I do hope they will put your name to it. It will be so disappointing if they don't," said Philippa the tactless. She was overflowing with sympathy with Theo in her success, and yet, poor dear! she must needs call attention to the one existing drawback; for the _Casket_ was as conservative as it was high-class--scorned to invite popularity by illustrations or artistic cover, and more often than not left a blank opposite the titles of stories and articles. It was at such moments as these that Theo felt that she could endure with resignation Philippa's speedy marriage and departure from the home circle. Only five minutes since she had heard the wonderful news, and already a little cloud came floating across the brightness of the sky; for it was little use appearing in the best magazine of the day if no one knew of it but yourself, and an admiring public remained in ignorance of your name. "How _horrid_ of you to suggest such a thing! You might let me enjoy myself when I can," she cried irritably. "You are a perfect wet blanket, Philippa--always sitting on us, and depreciating what we do. It is too bad--spoiling my pleasure when I have waited so long."