"Papa! Not really! Where is he?"
"HE RUMMAGED AMONGST THE CONTENTS."
"Marigold Place, Harrow Road, of all localities in the world."
"Why, that's where Mrs. Xerxes lives!" said one of the sisters, and then she looked at Madge.
"They're a very promising set of verses," went on the editor, impressively, "but I don't know that I can find room for them."
"Oh, please, please, don't send them back, sir! It will kill him."
"Eh? What? Who's this?" exclaimed the editor, looking severely over his glasses at Madge, and from her to his daughters. "Do you know this Paul Vespan, young woman?"
"Yes, sir. He lives in the house where I lodge. And he's starving, sir. He is, indeed. He has sent his work everywhere, and can't get it accepted. I posted that poem for him. I hoped it would bring him good luck."