Mr. Rudge, after reading the revised version in a very conscientious manner, thought the grammar decidedly weak, and felt the thing must always suffer from being a work of the imagination. In his eyes nothing could soften that cardinal defect; but he was a liberal-minded man, and if _Brown's Magazine_ was really interested in that sort of thing--well, it was no business of his to decry it. There was no accounting for taste after all, and _Brown's_ was certainly the best magazine of its kind in existence. A week passed, and then one evening the replica of a certain envelope which would ever remain upon the tablets of his memory was dropped through the slit in the shop door. It was addressed to "Henry Harper, Esquire," and ran as follows: DEAR MR. HARPER, Come and see me as soon as you can and let us have another little talk about "The adventures of Dick Smith." Very sincerely yours, EDWARD AMBROSE. Henry Harper did not understand the significance of those few and simple words. Mr. Rudge had a fair juster appreciation of the three barely legible lines signed "Edward Ambrose." But the next morning, after further ministrations of his master's clothes brush, the young man went courageously forth to 12B, Pall Mall. The bemedaled commissionaire and the bald-headed gentleman had no terrors for him now. Had he not walked and talked with Zeus himself? These Olympian sconce bearers could not eat him, and there is always comfort in that reflection for an imaginative mind. Even a ten minutes' wait in the room below did not matter. Mr. Ambrose greeted him with a grip of the hand which seemed to utter a volume. "It's a very fine thing," said the editor, without a word of preface, as if there could be only one thought for either just then. "At least that's my opinion." He laughed a little at his own vehemence. "Some people will not agree with me. They'll say it's too crude, they'll say the colors are laid on too thick. But that to me is its wonderful merit; it convinces in spite of itself, which is almost the surest test of genius, although that's a big word. But you've a great faculty. I'm so glad you've been able to make such a fine thing." His eyes shone; the charming voice vibrated with simple enthusiasm. "How one envies a man who can make a thing like that!" "You needn't, sir," said the Sailor, hardly knowing that he had spoken. Edward Ambrose fell to earth like an exploded firework. In spite of an eagerness of temperament which amused his friends, he was not a vaporer. He, too, had been in deep places, although the strange kingdoms he had seen were not exactly those of this young man, this curious, awkward, silent, unforgettable figure. "No, I expect not," said Mr. Ambrose in a changed tone, after a short pause. And then he added abruptly, "Now, suppose we sit down and talk business." They sat down, but the Sailor had no better idea of talking business than the table in front of him.