about eight thousand words, roughly estimated."

"Great!" said Thacker. "It isn't much, but it'll give the readers
some change from goobers, governors, and Gettysburg. I'll leave the
selection of the stuff I brought to fill the space to you, as it's all
good. I've got to run back to New York, and I'll be down again in a
couple of weeks."

Colonel Telfair slowly swung his eye-glasses by their broad, black
ribbon.

"The space in the January number that I referred to," said he,
measuredly, "has been held open purposely, pending a decision that
I have not yet made. A short time ago a contribution was submitted
to _The Rose of Dixie_ that is one of the most remarkable literary
efforts that has ever come under my observation. None but a master
mind and talent could have produced it. It would just fill the space
that I have reserved for its possible use."

Thacker looked anxious.

"What kind of stuff is it?" he asked. "Eight thousand words sounds
suspicious. The oldest families must have been collaborating. Is there
going to be another secession?"

"The author of the article," continued the colonel, ignoring Thacker's
allusions, "is a writer of some reputation. He has also distinguished
himself in other ways. I do not feel at liberty to reveal to you his
name--at least not until I have decided whether or not to accept his
contribution."