Who only touch the garment's hem."
At the bottom, in small capitals, was the signature,—Bel Bree.
"I don't understand," said Bel, bewildered. "What is it? Who did it?"
"It is a proof," said Mrs. Scherman. "A proof-sheet. And here is another kind of proof that came with it. Your spring song is going into the May number of 'First and Last.'"
Mrs. Scherman reached out a slip of paper, printed and filled in.
It was a publisher's check for fifteen dollars.
"You see I'm very unselfish, Bel," she said. "I'm going to work the very way to lose you."
Bel's eyes flashed up wide at her.
The way to lose her! Why, nobody had ever got such a hold upon her before! The printed verses and the money were wonderful surprises, but they were not the surprise that had gone straight into her heart, and dropped a grapple there. Mrs. Scherman had believed in her; and she had kissed her. Bel Bree would never forget that, though she should live to sing songs of all the years.
"When you can earn money like this, of course I cannot expect to keep you in my kitchen," said Mrs. Scherman, answering her look.