One day a big envelope came, and Eileen tore off the wrapper, to find “Not suitable” in big letters across her cherished manuscript.
“I’ll never try again,” she cried, almost on the verge of tears. “They’re a mean, horrid old lot, those paper people. I’m sure it is as good as the old stuff they print. It’s just because I’m not known.”
They all tried to console her. In fact, Willie went so far as to say he’d call and see those paper chaps when he went back to Sydney, and give them a bit of his mind. Although he did not like Eileen’s poetry, he was very loyal, and sympathised most heartily with Eileen.
“I’d like to chop every one of ’em up!” said Doris. And so by degrees Eileen’s keen disappointment wore off.
Just a week later there was great shouting and commotion over the page of a Sydney daily, for there was one of Mollie’s articles in cold print, with her name (“Mollie Hudson”) shining at the foot. Oh, the joy and excitement!
“How ever did you think of it, Mollie?” and “Oh, it’s beautiful!” came in choruses, for the little article, entitled “The Old Picnic Tree,” breathed of the fresh air of the paddocks and the leafy shade of an old gnarled, knotted tree.
“Mollie’s a writer, Mollie’s a writer,” they all shouted, dancing round her; and then they had to have a half-holiday in her honour, and spent the afternoon at the old tree that she had written of; and they had billy tea and nice little hot cakes that Mother had made in honour of the occasion. They spent a wild, happy time, weaving fancies and romances about the time when they should be all famous.
“Perhaps we’ll all be real rich and clever when we grow up,” said Eileen. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if the five of us were all writers or artists or musicians, or something of that sort, and had nice big studios and plenty of money, and—and—have a real grand jolly life.”
Of course, they all agreed with her, and thought perhaps things might turn out in that fashion; and then Willie said that he “might very likely beat them all—he didn’t speak much about what he was going to be,” he said, “but, all the same, he might surprise them all some day; so they needn’t be too surprised if he, too, became rich and famous.”
“Oh, tell us all about it, Willie!” they begged.