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But when he explained that the tragedy was an early effort of his literary childhood, and that the magazine had refused to be happy unless it got it, a great laugh went up at the magazine's expense and a change in the editorship followed. The tragedy was never brought out in book-form, though Martin pocketed the advance royalties that had been paid.
But she may be an enterprising journalist in disguise it's astonishing what women will do when they take to newspaper work and we have no right to risk anything, for the magazine's sake, if not yours and mine. Will you leave this letter with me?" "I expected to leave the whole affair in your hands. Do you mind telling me what you propose to do? Of course, it won't be anything abrupt "
So yez had better kape your eye skinned an' nab it before it shlips by an' is lost forevir." The names on a big magazine's table of contents represent many varieties of the vicissitudes of fortune, but the prevailing type is not a lucky genius, one for whom Opporchunity is working as a night watchman. The type is a firm-jawed plugger.
The Saturday Magazine's considering it." Miss France smiled deprecatingly. "I have high hopes," she said. "I need the money." "It will give you prestige, too," Frank told her, but she shook her head. "Norah hasn't signed her name to it," Aleta disapproved. "Just because a friend, a well known writer in Carmel, has fixed it up for her a little." "It doesn't seem like mine," the girl remarked.
Remember you are competing for editorial attention against a whole bushel of other manuscripts. The girl who opens the magazine's mail may be tempted to cast your contribution into the rejection basket on general principles, if you are foolish enough to get away to such a poor start.
For Beaton's talent Fulkerson never lost his admiration; but his joke was to encourage him to give himself airs of being the sole source of the magazine's prosperity. No bait of this sort was too obvious for Beaton to swallow; he could be caught with it as often as Fulkerson chose; though he was ordinarily suspicious as to the motives of people in saying things.
"Perhaps the last entry of the lot will tell us. Palmerto's Magazine's feature announcement, received November ninth. No; it doesn't give any clue to the Latinity. It isn't bad, though. 'The darkness falls. That's all there is to it. And enough." "I should say the darkness did fall," confirmed Bertram. "It falls and remains."
"Come right in, Curly," he said kindly. Then he laid his rifle on the table and pointed at it. "The magazine's loaded plumb up. Guess no man has a right to give up his life without a kick. That'll help you if they come along which they won't. Maybe Buck'll be along directly. Don't shoot him down. Anyway he's got Cæsar with him so you'll know. I'm going down to the camp."
And such a one was Chester. He had his reward. Twice and again he read the magazine's name on the envelope as he bore it to the Camp Street front of the building, but would not open the missive. That should be her privilege and honor. He lifted his eyes from it and behold, here came the two cars! But where was she? Certainly not in the front one. There he made out, in pairs, M. De l'Isle and Mme.
Noisily with his knuckles he began to knock through page after page of the magazine's big-typed advertisements concerning the year's most popular story-book heroines. "Why here are no end of story-book girls," he complained, "that could keep a fellow guessing till his hair was nine shades of white! Look at the corking things they say! But what earthly good are any of 'em to you? They're not real!
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