you ever hear that I was an authoress?"

"An authoress!" repeated Mary--"an authoress! Why no; are you?"

"To be sure I am," answered Sal. "What's to hinder. Haven't I told you
repeatedly, that I once possessed an unusually large amount of
judgment; and this, added to my knowledge of grammar, and uncommon
powers of imagination, enabled me to produce a work which, but for an
unaccountable freak of the publisher, would have rendered my name
immortal."

"I don't understand," said Mary, and Sally continued: "You see, I
wrote about six hundred pages of foolscap, which the publisher to whom
it was sent for examination was impolite enough to return, together
with a note, containing, as I suppose, his reasons for rejection; but
if he thinks I read it he's mistaken. I merely glanced at the words,
'Dear Madam--We regret--' and then threw it aside. It was a terrible
disappointment, and came near turning my brain; but there are other
publishing houses in the world, and one of these days I shall astonish
mankind. But come, we must hasten on, or the gormandizers will eat up
those custard pies which I found in the cellar with the brass-kettle
covered over them."

Accordingly they started for home, but found, as Sal had predicted,
that supper was over and the pies all gone. By a little dexterous
management, however, she managed to find half of one, which Miss
Grundy had tucked away under an empty candle-box for her own future
eating.