“If any member of the firm got it,” she said, smiling, “the first thing he would do would be to bring it to me to enter in the books.” I insisted. I wanted to see somebody in the firm, but she answered me there was no use. Finally she suggested that they might know something about it up in the offices of the magazine. I went there, but no, no one had ever heard of it there. I came home dazed. I don't know what in the world to make of it. He certainly said that the firm was reading it. I wrote to-night to ask him about it. * * * * * March 23d. I have waited day by day in the utmost perplexity to hear from him about that. I should have heard from him yesterday. I don't know what in the world to make of it. Can he have gone in to them privately? Or can he have forgotten it--he is so busy! I dread the latter circumstance--but I dread as much to anger him in the other case. * * * * * March 27th. I waited four days more. I went up to see him. Just as I feared. I have annoyed him. I could see it. I know he must be tired of seeing my face. “Mr. Stirling,” he said, “I have told you that the poem is being read by the firm, and that I will let you know the moment I hear from them.” “I only came,” I said, “because the clerk told me--” “There are some things clerks don't know,” he put in. I tremble at the thought of making him angry. I will not go near him again. * * * * * March 30th. I am doing my best to keep my mind on some reading, so as not to make the agony unbearable. But it is very hard--the mails disturb you. I can only read in the middle of the day, and at night. In the morning I expect the first mail, trembling; but after that I know a city letter can't come till afternoon, so I can read. Then again at night I know it can't come. * * * * * --I am reading The Ring and the Book. I have always found that it doesn't do to take vulgar opinions. I had supposed I should find The Ring and the Book hard reading. It _is_ skippable--the consequence of having a foolish scheme to fill out. But the story of Pompilia and Giuseppi is one of the finest things I know of anywhere. * * * * * April 3d. It has been another week. I could not stand it any more. I am going over to the publishers' again this afternoon. --What in Heaven's name does this thing mean? I met the satisfied smile of the clerk again. “We have never seen the manuscript, Mr. Stirling!” If you could only see how positive she is! “I don't know anything about what the editor told you, I can only tell you positively that he has never submitted any such manuscript to the firm, or to anybody connected with the firm.” That thing drove me wild. I don't know what to make of it. Surely he's given it to some one, for he told me so.