"Now look here," said Teddie angrily, "none of your office gibberish. Just take up my card and say——"
At this juncture a pleasant-faced clerk stepped forward. "Get back to your work, Tommie," he said briskly, and he turned to the pair. "What can I do for you?" he asked, looking from one to the other.
Teddie repeated his formula and handed the young man his card. "We are on the lady's errand," he explained, "but she has no card," and Hazel felt mortified, she scarcely knew why; but it seemed so terribly young not to possess cards, although she had never before felt the lack.
"Is it an appointment?" asked the clerk. "Will your business be known?"
"No," Teddie returned stoutly, "but there must be a beginning, you know. We wish to submit a manuscript."
The young man left them, to reappear in a few moments.
"The editor will see you at once," he informed them. "Please step this way."
He led them up a flight of stairs, and, showing them into a room, closed the door behind them. It was large and comfortably furnished, with more of the private library than office about it. The only occupant, a tall, good-looking man, of some fifty years of age, rose to receive them, tendering Hazel a chair near his own desk, the while Teddie seated himself somewhat in the background.
"I wish to submit a manuscript which I think you will find very suitable for the —— Magazine," Hazel began, with an easy confidence and graciousness of manner that generally proved very pleasing from the little lady. "Are you Mr. Langham or Mr. Fielding?"
"My name is Charles Langham," he answered, bowing, a slight smile relaxing his somewhat grave features. "It is a short story, I presume?"