She beamed at him over her embroidery. The pen resumed its slow progress. Phyllis rocked happily. When the pen paused again, she watched his face. It welcomed speech, so—
"What word from the publishers?" asked Phyllis.
"They will have none of it," replied John. "They all tell me the verses have merit; they all regret the public taste; but—in short, business is business."
Phyllis bit her thread in two. John continued
"If I could get the first little book out,—and reviewed in the papers that count,—I have enough verses for a second, to follow at once, and catch the favoring breeze;—but if there is no first, how can there be a second?"
Phyllis shook her head. The idiosyncrasies of the publishing trade were beyond her comprehension. How they could refuse such beautiful—Well!
"I had a proposal from Kendall, Ransome & Company yesterday afternoon that I meant to have told you about—only Miss Neville's and Mark Holroyd's coming to spend the evening knocked it out of my head."
"Wasn't it dear of them! Didn't Peggy look sweet in that blue gown? What was the proposal, John? Any proposal is encouraging isn't it?" asked Phyllis.
"I suppose so," John answered, running his hand through his hair. "But this one couldn't be accepted under the circumstances They offered to publish the book if I would pay the cost of printing and relinquish copyright."
"The idea!" exclaimed Phyllis.