"Could you, really? I'm glad. That makes me know I've succeeded. Now for a publisher!"
"You wouldn't publish it without his—knowing?"
"Certainly not. But I'm going to let a publisher see it, before he knows."
"Y-yes, perhaps."
"Why, Keith, I'd have to do that. Do you suppose I'd run the risk of its being turned down, and then have to tell that boy that he couldn't have the book, after all?"
"No, no, I suppose not. But—it isn't going to be turned down, dad.
Such a wonderful thing can't be turned down."
"Hm-m; perhaps not." Daniel Burton's lips came together a bit grimly. "But—there ARE wonderful things that won't sell, you know. However," he finished with brisk cheerfulness, "this isn't one of my pictures, nor a bit of Susan's free verse; so there's some hope, I guess. Anyhow, we'll see—but we won't tell John until we do see."
"All right. I suppose that would be best," sighed Keith, still a little doubtfully.
They had not long to wait, after all. In a remarkably short time came back word from the publishers. Most emphatically they wanted the book, and they wanted it right away. Moreover, the royalty they offered was so good that it sent Daniel Burton down the stairs two steps at a time like a boy, in his eagerness to reach Keith with the good news.
"And now for John!" he cried excitedly, as soon as Keith's joyous exclamations over the news were uttered. "Come, let's go across now."