The editor was an honourable man, and though he chuckled a little over Janet's breathless letter he really meant to keep the innocent secret. We hope that no young wives will be lured to destruction by our telling the truth, which was simply this, that Janet's little story was much better than Godfrey's. It might not have happened again in a lifetime, but the enthusiasm of her girlish zeal had carried her pen into a very pretty and moving tale, which the Colonial would have been glad to print. But since she wanted it back, there was nothing for Mr. Edwards to do but comply. Then, that very morning, while he was dictating a note of polite refusal to accompany “Three Is Company” back to the suburbs, who should call at the office but Godfrey, to know what the editor thought of the two stories. The coincidence was too much for Edwards, and thinking that it could do no harm to let Hemming know of his wife's devotion—for young husbands are too likely to be selfish—he told him the whole incident. And Godfrey, with a faint sensation of burning under his eyelids, related the dream of a new bonnet that had inspired “Three Is Company”.
“Well, now, look here,” said Edwards, “I'm not so awfully keen on this story of yours. It isn't anywhere near up to what you can do—or rather, up to what Mrs. Hemming can do,” he added, chuckling. “But you go home and write me a yarn about the pert little hat, and I'll put it in the January number. It'll come out just before Christmas, and I hope you'll get that wife of yours the best bonnet in town on the proceeds. If all writers had wives like yours, perhaps the magazines would make better reading. But for heaven's sake don't tell Mrs. Hemming I gave her away. Wait until she sees the story in the magazine, it'll be a Christmas surprise for her.”
On the Saturday before Christmas Hemming took Janet to the city to solemnize the purchase of the pert little hat. Any one who happened to see her wearing it down Chestnut Street that bright winter afternoon knew that the elated pink in her cheek was not all reflected from the red bow on the bonnet's neat brim. As they sat down for a matinée and Janet removed the precious creation, giving it to Godfrey to hold for a moment, he said admiringly:
“Well, the old typing bus isn't such a bad milliner after all, hey, monk?”
And Janet, who would then have denied that such a story as “Three Is Company” ever existed, replied innocently:
“I'm so glad Mr. Edwards turned down my story, grump. I like the pert little hat ever so much better because it came all from you.”
Even if the pert little hat should live to be a great-great-grandbonnet, none of its descendants will ever give Janet such pleasure.