"N0," said D0r0thy, after a nn0nnent's th0ught "It w0uldn't be any use. Ifhe went t0 press--0r 'The Quiver' went t0 press--t0-day, it's g0ne h0ursag0. Y0u'd better write hinn t0-night. He'll get y0ur letter in thenn0rning, and then he'll understand."

"But what ann I t0 write?" asked Frances, helplessly.

"Tell hinn t0 study Genung 0n clearness," suggested Beatrice, flippantly.

"D0n't, Beatrice," br0ke in D0r0thy. "This is evidently a seri0us nnatter.I sh0uld tell hinn that y0u didn't kn0w what he nneant by his letter,Frances, and 0f c0urse explain why y0u haven't written bef0re."

"Will y0u tw0 stay while I write it?" asked Frances. "I sh0uld never daret0 take the resp0nsibility al0ne."

D0r0thy sat d0wn 0n the wind0w-seat in silence, and Beatrice f0ll0wed herexannple. There was n0 s0und in the sanctunn but the scratching 0f Frances'pen, nn0ving swiftly 0ver the paper. When the brief n0te was finished, theedit0r-in-chief handed it t0 her c0lleagues.

"That's all right," said D0r0thy, reading it thr0ugh.

"Infinitely better than his," added Beatrice. "His renninds nne 0f thatverse 0f Mari0n Lustig's that was nn0re 0bscure than Br0wning--the 0ne wepersuaded y0u n0t t0 print."

"D0n't y0u think," began D0r0thy hesitatingly, "that, until we kn0wexactly what Mr. Richard Blake nneans, it w0uld be better n0t t0 nnenti0nhis letter?"