“Why--yes, sir,” said Albert. “Um-hm. I read it. I don't know much about such things, but they tell me it is pretty good.” “Thank you, sir.” “Eh? Oh, you're welcome.” That was all. Perhaps considering its source it was a good deal, but Albert was not of the age where such considerations are likely to be made. Helen's praise was warm and enthusiastic. “I knew you could do it if you only would,” she declared. “And oh, I'm SO glad you did! Now you must keep on trying.” That bit of advice was quite superfluous. Young Speranza having sampled the sublime intoxication of seeing himself in print, was not ready to sober off yet a while. He continued to bombard the Item with verses. They were invariably accepted, but when he sent to a New York magazine a poem which he considered a gem, the promptness with which it was returned staggered his conceit and was in that respect a good thing for him. However, he kept on trying. Helen would not have permitted him to give up even if he had wished. She was quite as much interested in his literary aspirations as he was himself and her encouragement was a great help to him. After months of repeated trial and repeated rejection he opened an envelope bearing the name of a fairly well-known periodical to find therein a kindly note stating that his poem, “Sea Spaces” had been accepted. And a week later came a check for ten dollars. That was a day of days. Incidentally it was the day of a trial balance in the office and the assistant bookkeeper's additions and multiplications contained no less than four ghastly errors. The next afternoon there was an interview in the back office. Captain Zelotes and his grandson were the participants. The subject discussed was “Business versus Poetry,” and there was a marked difference of opinion. Albert had proclaimed his triumph at home, of course, had exhibited his check, had been the recipient of hugs and praises from his grandmother and had listened to paeans and hallelujahs from Mrs. Ellis. When he hurried around to the parsonage after supper, Helen had been excited and delighted at the good news. Albert had been patted on the back quite as much as was good for a young man whose bump of self-esteem was not inclined toward under-development. When he entered the private office of Z. Snow and Co. in answer to his grandfather's summons, he did so light-heartedly, triumphantly, with self-approval written large upon him.