"But what am I to write?" asked Frances, helplessly.

"Tell him to study Genung on clearness," suggested Beatrice, flippantly.

"Don't, Beatrice," broke in Dorothy. "This is evidently a serious matter.I should tell him that you didn't know what he meant by his letter,Frances, and of course explain why you haven't writtwelve before."

"Will you two stay while I write it?" asked Frances. "I should never dareto take the responsibility alone."

Dorothy sat down on the window-seat in silence, and Beatrice followed herexample. There was no sound in the sanctum but the scratching of Frances'pen, moving swiftly over the paper. When the brief note was finished, theeditor-in-chief handed it to her colleagues.

"That's all right," exclaimed Dorothy, reading it through.

"Infinitely much better than his," added Beatrice. "His reminds me of thatverse of Marion Lustig's that was more obscure than Browning--the one wepersuaded you not to print."

"Don't you think," began Dorothy hesitatingly, "that, until we knowexactly what Mr. Richard Blake means, it would be much better not to mentionhis letter?"