[MADGE FINDS HERSELF IN AN AWKWARD SITUATION]
'There was no burglar. The night was undisturbed; and the next day was, for both, a busy one.
The morning post brought Madge an intimation from a publisher to whom she had submitted one of her MSS., that he would be obliged if, when she was in town, she would call on him, so that she might discuss with him terms for its publication. That business-like memorandum made her heart beat faster; sent the blood coursing quickly through her veins; added a sparkle to her eyes. This, after all, was the sort of fortune she preferred--one for which she had striven with her own brains and hands--better than hidden hoards! The simple breakfast became an Elysian feast.
Ella was almost as jubilant as she herself was.
"Northcote & Co? That's a good house, isn't it?"
"Rather. They published----" Madge reeled off the names of two or three pronounced fictional successes.
"How much do you think they'll give you for it?"
"In cash?--not much; don't you think I shall bring home the Bank of England. So long as they give me a fair share of anything it may ultimately bring, I'll be content. But it isn't that; it's getting the first footing on the ladder--that's the thing."
"Of course it is. How splendid! And I'll tell you what; you shall dedicate it to me, and then if it sells by the hundred thousand, I shall have a bit of your fame."
"Done!--and your name upon the flyleaf ought to help to sell the book: it's as well known as mine is, anyhow. The author's spoken--you shall be the dedicatee?"