Carol promptly pushed her down in a chair and sat upon her lap.
"Pretty good,—eh, what?"
"Oh, Carol, don't say that, it sounds awful," cautioned Lark.
"What do you think about it, Connie? Pretty fair boost for a struggling young author, don't you think? Family, arise! The Chautauqua salute! We have arrived. Connie is an author. Forty-five dollars!"
"But however did you do it?" wondered Connie breathlessly.
"Why, we sent it out, and—"
"Just once?"
"Alas, no,—we sent it seven times."
"Oh, girls, how could you! Think of the stamps! I'm surprised you had the money."
"Remember that last quarter we borrowed of you? Well!"