“The Editor of ——”
“Fools, fools, all of them are fools! Don’t you change it for the whole of the silly magazine. It is a good poem, and its having thirteen lines is none of his business. Haven’t you as much right to create a form of verse as Villon or Alfred Tennyson? That editor would have rejected ‘Tears, idle tears,’ because it hasn’t a rhyme in it and looks as though it might have.”
The professor was so excited that Molly had to laugh.
“You are certainly kind to me and my efforts. I must go now. Please give my love to Mrs. Brady and thank her for her tea. You never did tell me when you expect your sister.”
“Bless my soul,” said Edwin Green, looking at his watch, “she will be here in a few minutes now!”
“Don’t forget to let me see your sonnet, and please put all the lines in. I am so glad your sister is to be with you, and hope to see her often.”
And Molly flew away, happy as a bird that her writing was coming on, and that she felt at home again with the most interesting man she had ever met.
CHAPTER IV.—A BARREL FROM HOME.
Christmas was upon our girls almost before they had unpacked and settled down to work. Mid-year exams. had no terrors for our two post-graduates, but they were working just as hard as they ever had in their collegiate course.
“I don’t know what it is that drives us so, Nance, unless it is that we are getting ready for the final examination at Judgment Day,” said Molly. “I am so interested, I never seem to get tired these days; and I don’t even mind the tutoring that has been thrust upon me. Now that I shall not have to teach for a living, I really believe I should not mind it very much.”