“The Torch! That’s nicer than Casket, and sounds more spirited. We could have a picture of a woman holding up a lamp, with the word ‘Progress’ written across the beams—like they do in the Punch cartoons. I think Torch would be lovely.”
“Why not Comet?” asked Nancy in her brief, quiet tones, narrowing the double line of black eyelashes as she spoke so as to hide the expression of her eyes.
There was a moment’s pause, broken by Dreda’s quick, suspicious question:
“Why Comet?”
“Why not?”
“Do you mean because of the tail?”
“Comets do have tails, don’t they? So do magazines!”
That was all very well, but the silence which followed the explanation showed that suspicion still rankled. Dreda arched her eyebrows at Barbara, who shrugged in reply. Susan wrinkled her brows, and Norah pursed her lips. What was Nancy really thinking inside that sleek, well-shaped little head? Comets appeared suddenly; remained to be a ten days’ talk and wonder, and then—mysteriously disappeared! Instinctively Dreda stiffened her back, and registered an inward vow that she would spare neither time nor pains to make the magazine a permanent and shining light!