"And what is this magazine affair?" asked Miss Jane.
"Yes, and that's another thing," sighed Genevieve. "I can't write things. If it were only Quentina, now—she could do it!"
"But you have written for the Chronicles, my dear," observed Mrs. Kennedy. "Have you given those up?"
"Oh, no; we still keep them, only we have entries once a week now instead of every day. There isn't so much doing here as there was in Texas, you know."
"Then you do write for that," said Miss Jane.
"Oh, but that's just for us," argued Genevieve. "I don't mind that. But this has got to be printed, Miss Jane—printed right out for everybody to read! If it were only Quentina, now—she'd glory in it. And—oh, Miss Jane, how I wish you could see Quentina," broke off Genevieve, suddenly. "Dear me! wouldn't she just hit on your name, though! She'd be rhyming it in no time, and have 'Miss Jane at the window-pane,' before you could turn around!"
"Quite an inducement for me to know her, I'm sure," observed Miss Jane, dryly.
Genevieve laughed, but she sighed again, too.
"Well, anyhow, she would do it lovely—this correspondence business; but I can't, I'm sure."