"Hot stuff!" Miss Dobbs dexterously concealed a yawn with a dingy white glove. "It's It." The author blushed with pleasure, although he could hardly believe the story was as good as all that. "And what are you going to do with it now you've written it?" To her intense surprise it had not occurred to him to do anything with it. "Oh, but that's potty. That's merely potty. Of course you are going to bring it out as a book." The author had not thought of doing so. "Anyhow, it is just the thing for a magazine." Even a magazine had not entered his mind. "What are you going to do with it, then?" demanded Miss Dobbs, with growing incredulity. This was a question Mr. Harper was unable to answer. "You are going to do nothing with it?" gasped Miss Dobbs. "No." "But it's 'some' story, I assure you it is. If you send it to the _Rotunda_ or the _Covent Garden_ it may mean big money." Quite absurdly the financial aspect had not presented itself. "Well, you're potty," said Miss Dobbs, with despondency. "Don't you know that Bert Hobson, who writes those stories for the _Rotunda_, makes his thousands a year?" Mr. Harper, who had never heard of Bert Hobson or of the _Rotunda_, seemed greatly surprised. "Why, you are as green as green," said Miss Dobbs reproachfully. "It's such a nugget of thrills, you ought to see that it gets published. You ought really." But in spite of her conviction it was some time before he felt able to take her advice. Such unpractical reluctance on the part of genius gave her pain. It seemed to lower its value. He must be a genius to have written a book, but it was a great pity that he should confirm the world's estimate of genius by behaving like one. Why had he taken so much trouble if he was not going to get a nice fat check out of it? He had written it because he felt he must. It's a very sloppy reason, was the unexpressed opinion of Miss Dobbs. After such a hopeless admission on the part of the young man with the queer eyes, Miss Dobbs felt so hurt that she did not appear in the shop for three weeks. And when at last she came again, she learned that the story of _Dick Smith_ and the brigantine _Excelsior_ was still in its drawer and had yet to be seen by anyone. "You beat Banagher," said Miss Dobbs. And then she suddenly exclaimed, "Look here, Mr. Harper, give me that story and I'll send it myself to the _Rotunda_." Very gently and politely, but quite firmly, Mr. Harper declined to do so. But in order to appease Miss Dobbs, who was inclined to make this refusal a personal matter, he solemnly promised that he would send it to the _Rotunda_ himself, or some other magazine.