An hour later, Katherine was summoned to the office of the managing editor. "Mrs. Carroll," he said, "Lester tells me he is called out of the city and suggests you as the proper person to do his work. I believe it is a little out of your line, but you can try. Miss Scott will do your department to-day, and you can take this afternoon to look around."
So the newly fledged art critic went out to find her copy. There were several pictures to be noted and she spoke as kindly as she could of all, trying to mingle helpful criticism with discerning praise. None were condemned, for she knew what a picture might mean to the artist, and to the woman who loved him.
Unconsciously, she imitated Lester's style; his full, well-rounded periods, and sharp, incisive sentences. Very different it was from the chatty, gossipy way in which she filled the "Woman's Kingdom," on the back page of the Express.
She was afraid to say too much of Robert's work, and toned down her enthusiasm three successive times. The last note satisfied her and she sent it up-stairs with the rest.
When the paper came in the morning, he turned feverishly to the page which contained the "Art of the Week." His shout of joy woke Katherine and together they laughed and cried over the "good notice."
She felt wicked, but his pleasure was full compensation for her pangs of conscience. "Lester's approval is worth a thousand dollars," he said. "I can go to work in earnest now."
Her face changed mysteriously. An overwhelming sense of the wrong she had done, came upon her, and he looked at her steadily. There was a queer note in his voice when he spoke: "Katherine Carroll, I believe you wrote that notice."
It was useless to dissemble longer and she told the whole story. He was deeply touched by this proof of her devotion, but he shook his head sadly over Lester's own comment.
"It won't help any, little girl; you can't make fame for me in that way. My work must stand or fall on its own merits—and—it seems likely to fall."