THE AUTHOR IN HIS STUDY
"Yes, ma'm," she replied, and immediately ushered me into the author's den, where I discovered the great man himself scolding his secretary.
"I cannot understand why you are so careless," he was saying as I entered. "In spite of all my orders, repeatedly given, you will not dot your jays or cross your ells. If you do not take greater care I shall have to get some one else who will. Write this letter over again."
Then he looked up, and perceiving me, rose courteously, and, much to my surprise, observed in charming English:
"Miss Witherup, I presume?"
"Yes," said I, grasping his proffered hand. "How did you know?"
"I was at the De Reszkes' when your telegram reached there yesterday," he explained. "We thought you would be amused by the answer we sent you."
"Oh!" said I, seeing that I had been made the victim of a joke. "It wasn't polite, was it?"
"Oh, I don't know," he replied. "It was inspired by our confidence in your American alertness. We were sure you would be able to find me, anyhow, and we thought we'd indulge in a little humor, that was all."