“Well, I hardly meant one of that kind of stories,” smiled Anne. “I’ve been
thinking about it a little of late, but I’m almost afraid to try, for, if I should fail, it
would be too humiliating.”
“I heard Priscilla say once that all Mrs. Morgan’s first stories were rejected.
But I’m sure yours wouldn’t be, Anne, for it’s likely editors have more sense
nowadays.”
“Margaret Burton, one of the Junior girls at Redmond, wrote a story last
winter and it was published in the Canadian Woman. I really do think I could
write one at least as good.”
“And will you have it published in the Canadian Woman?”
“I might try one of the bigger magazines first. It all depends on what kind of a
story I write.”
“What is it to be about?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to get hold of a good plot. I believe this is very
necessary from an editor’s point of view. The only thing I’ve settled on is the
heroine’s name. It is to be AVERIL LESTER. Rather pretty, don’t you think?
Don’t mention this to any one, Diana. I haven’t told anybody but you and Mr.
Harrison. HE wasn’t very encouraging—he said there was far too much trash
written nowadays as it was, and he’d expected something better of me, after a
year at college.”
“What does Mr. Harrison know about it?” demanded Diana scornfully.
They found the Gillis home gay with lights and callers. Leonard Kimball, of
Spencervale, and Morgan Bell, of Carmody, were glaring at each other across
the parlor. Several merry girls had dropped in. Ruby was dressed in white and
her eyes and cheeks were very brilliant. She laughed and chattered incessantly,
and after the other girls had gone she took Anne upstairs to display her new
summer dresses.
“I’ve a blue silk to make up yet, but it’s a little heavy for summer wear. I
think I’ll leave it until the fall. I’m going to teach in White Sands, you know.
How do you like my hat? That one you had on in church yesterday was real
dinky. But I like something brighter for myself. Did you notice those two
ridiculous boys downstairs? They’ve both come determined to sit each other out.
I don’t care a single bit about either of them, you know. Herb Spencer is the one
I like. Sometimes I really do think he’s MR. RIGHT. At Christmas I thought the
Spencervale schoolmaster was that. But I found out something about him that
turned me against him. He nearly went insane when I turned him down. I wish
those two boys hadn’t come tonight. I wanted to have a nice good talk with you,