"Well, my dear child," said Mrs. Atherton, kissing her affectionately, "I hope it will prove so. Give my love to your mother. I will come in again very soon."
Salome ran upstairs with Ada's letter, and hastily putting it on the table by her mother's side, went down again to read her own letter. It was from Bardsley and Carrow. Her hands trembled with excitement as she tore open the envelope and read:—
"Dear Madam,—We return the manuscript of 'Under the Cedars,' with thanks for allowing us to peruse it. We regret that it is not suited for publication in our series of stories for the young.—We remain your obedient servants,
"J. A. Bardsley and Carrow."
"Everything is a disappointment! Everything fails!" exclaimed Salome. "It is no use trying to do anything. Mrs. Atherton suspects me of I don't know what; and I was only trying to save mother from pain. But Raymond may go his own way now. I can do nothing for him. Why should my life be so different to other girls? Ada is happy at Cannes, having all she can wish for. Then there are the girls at Edinburgh Crescent going out to-night to a fancy-dress dance, and to-morrow to some other party, and next week to the school concert; and here am I, trying to be of use, and yet I cannot even succeed in that, and everything is so wretched and miserable. I saw Mrs. Atherton looking round on this untidy room. The children are really the greatest bother;" and Salome snatched up the tail of the kite, newspapers and all, with no gentle hand; and by so doing, the string, which was twisted in one of the corners of her old writing-folio, brought the whole down—cloth, work-basket, and all.
"What a horrid fire! and what a mess! Really this isn't very inviting," said Reginald, as he came in from football, and, covered with mud and scratches, threw himself into the chair Mrs. Atherton had occupied.
"Where's mother?" he asked. "Is her cold worse? I say, Salome, I was chosen to play in the second fifteen instead of a fellow who is ill. I have had a glorious run for once. Sal, what's the matter?"
Salome was fairly crying now.
"It is all so miserable and uncomfortable, Reg; and look here."
She handed him the letter as she spoke.
"What a jolly hand!" Reginald exclaimed. "Who is it from?"