"Get some good
opinion before you part with it, mother. I wish we could keep it.
I'm proud of my Mother Carey."
Allen, who came home next, only sighed at the cruel necessity of
selling such a work. He was in deplorable spirits, for Gilbert Gould
was superintending the refitting of a beautiful steam yacht, in which
Miss Menella meant to sail to the West Indies, with her uncle and
aunt.
"I knew she would! I knew she would," softly said Babie.
That did not console Allen, and his silence and cynicism about his
hosts gave the impression that he had outstayed his welcome, since he
had neither wealth, nor the social brilliance or subservience that
might have supplied its place. He had scarcely energy to thank his
mother for her faultless transcription of "The Single Eye," and only
just exerted himself to direct the neat roll of MS. to the Editor.
The next day a note came for him.
"Mother what _have_ you done?" he exclaimed. "What _did_ you send to
the 'Weathercock'?"
"'The Single Eye.' What? Not rejected?"
"See there!"
"DEAR MR. BROWNLOW,-—I am afraid there has been some mistake. The
story I wished for is not this one, but another in the same MS.
Magazine; a charming little history of a boy's capture by, and escape
from, the Moorish corsairs.
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