From Contributor to Editor.—It's really too bad! I had put Edwin in the Conciergerie and Angelina was trying to bribe Robespierre. And now you have altered it all! And what am I to do with a picture which seems to be an advertisement of somebody's shirts? Haven't you made another mistake. However, I have got on as fast as I can, and put a heap of subjects in a mad scene. EDWIN'S brain breaks down, and he has visions of lots of things, inclusive of some wedding-cakes.
From Editor to Contributor.—You are quite right. I did make a mistake. The last packet of blocks were put into my room by mistake. Please return them at once—they are required for the advertisements. Better send in your story as it is, and then I will find something appropriate. Why will you live in the country? If you were here, you could settle the whole matter in two twos.
From Contributor to Editor.—I stay in the country because I can't get inspiration in town. And that's my affair, and not your's. Pardon this tone of irritation, but I hate altering a story after once panning out the plot. However, I have obeyed your orders. Edwin and Angelina are born in Burmah (they are cousins), and are taken to an old English country-house. Then they are told by an old crone the story of their parents' past. That brings in all the French revolutionary business. Then I get in the detective part, with a reference to the undiscovered crime in Cannon Street. You will see it is all right.
From Editor to Contributor.—I have read it, and heartily congratulate you. Just what we wanted. What do you call it?
From Contributor to Editor.—"A Lovely Devonshire Rose." It seems to me neat and appropriate; or, as it is a story for Christmas, how will "A Ray of Arctic Sunlight" do?
From Editor to Contributor.—"A Ray of Arctic Sunlight" is better for Yule Tide. I have got the very blocks for the illustrations. Belonged to a book called Travels in the Soudan and Syria. Could not have found anything more appropriate if I had searched for centuries. I enclose a little cheque, and offer thousands of thanks for all the trouble you have taken. It is no idle form when I wish you the happiest of Christmasses and the most prosperous of New Years!
From Contributor to Editor.—Reciprocation of seasonable compliments. But I say—hang it—you might have made it guineas!
