He bowed again, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his hands at the back of his head.
"I came to offer you an article for the magazine." She threw down the roll of paper on a chair.
"Ah!—hem!—will you favor me with your name?"
"Beulah Benton, sir. One altogether unknown to fame."
He contracted his eyes, coughed, and said constrainedly:
"Are you a subscriber?"
"I am."
"What is the character of your manuscript?" He took it up as he spoke, and glanced over the pages.
"You can determine that from a perusal. If the sketch suits you, I should like to become a regular contributor."
A gleam of sunshine strayed over the countenance, and the editor answered, very benignly: