Mr. Fabian was as pleased at the news as either of his protegees, and they left the Ashbys feeling very much at peace with the world and everything in it.

As Eleanor ran down the shallow brown-stone steps to the sidewalk, she turned back and called to Mr. Ashby: "Who knows! We may end by going into partnership with you, some day!"

He laughed, and said: "Who knows?"

CHAPTER VIII-A WEEK OF PLEASURE

As Mr. Maynard occupied Eleanor's room at the Studio, and she used the couch moved into Polly's room for the time being, it seemed difficult for Eleanor to follow her desire to communicate with Dunlap, the reporter, as soon as she got home.

Everyone was dog-tired from the excitement and the visit at the Ashbys afterward, so there was no time lost before tumbling into bed. Eleanor found it very hard to keep her eyes open until she could hear Polly sleeping heavily. Then she crept from the bed.

Downstairs was the print of a photograph taken a few weeks before, of a group of Mrs. Wellington's scholars. Polly and herself were in this group, and Eleanor planned to get it into the reporter's hands for reproduction to print a picture of Polly in the morning's paper.

She found the photograph without noise or trouble and then sat down before the telephone stand in the corner of the living room. "I hope to goodness no one upstairs will hear me talk," thought Eleanor to herself, as she gave the number to Central.

"h.e.l.lo-is this 10000 Greeley?

"Give me Mr. Dunlap, please.

"The lady who said she would call him about the fire.

"No, you won't do! I want Dunlap!

"He isn't in? I don't believe you! Get off the wire!

"h.e.l.lo-h.e.l.lo! H-e-l-lo! I want editor's desk-10000 Greeley, and be quick about it!" snapped Eleanor, feeling quite irritable because of the loss of sleep, and the strange reporter's laugh at her.

"Is this the night-editor?" now asked Eleanor, eagerly.

"U-um! May I speak to Mr. Dunlap-the reporter you a.s.signed on the fire story uptown, to-night?

"Oh-he isn't in? Well, but he said he would wait to take some important notes from me. I can't believe he is out.

"Well, then, you may be the night-editor, but you sound exactly like that fresh reporter who spoke to me a moment ago. I cannot understand why you employ such rude youths as he is."

Eleanor grinned to herself for she was quite sure she was speaking to the same reporter who answered the call, at first. An answering laugh convinced her she was right, and she hissed through the telephone: "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't keep me sitting in the cold like this.

Now you can either call Dunlap or I'll give my story to your enemy downtown. The reporters of that paper are just dying to get my story."

That proved miraculous. To prevent the downtown compet.i.tor from getting the story, the unknown was willing to turn it over to his opponent, Dunlap.

Eleanor recognised Dunlap's voice the moment he took the 'phone, and she gave him some interesting personal facts about Polly and herself, and why they were now studying in New York. She talked for half-an-hour, praising Polly and her wonderful character, and finally began telling about the escape from Grizzly Peak at the time of the landslide. But Dunlap interrupted her with:

"I can't get all of that in-we go to press very shortly."

"Oh, dear! Can't you run over here and get this photo of Polly, that I have ready for you?"

"For the morning edition?" gasped Dunlap.

"Yes, to accompany the story of the fire."

"My dear young lady-do you know how long it takes to make a plate for the paper?"

"A plate? I said 'a photograph,' Mr. Dunlap."

"But we have to make a reproduction of yours, then print it on a plate, then give it an acid bath, then etch and rout, and mount-and it all takes time before the plate is ready to be stereotyped for the printing in the paper."

"Oh! I thought you just took the picture and copied it in the paper. Of course, I never stopped to inquire into what process it went through.

But if you say you can't use it, I'm sorry."

"So'm I. But you might bring it in early in the morning and I'll see if there is enough interest in the story to rake up an evening's yarn."

"Very well. I'll do that."

"Come in, anyway, and bring your friends. I'll show you through the engraving plant of the paper. You'll be interested."

"Thank you-good-by."

Eleanor hung up the receiver and listened intently to hear if anyone was stirring upstairs. All was quiet, so she placed the photograph back on the shelf and crept upstairs again. She jumped into bed shivering, after being exposed so long to the cold, downstairs. But utter weariness soon brought her sleep and all was forgotten until breakfast time.

Mr. Maynard, speaking, woke Eleanor. She sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Thank goodness, we do not have to go to school for a whole week!" declared she, throwing a shoe at Polly's half-buried head.

"Polly! Pol-le-ee! Wake up!"

"Wha-foh?" grunted Polly, half-dazed.

Then both girls heard Mr. Maynard call: "I'll be right back to breakfast, Mrs. Stewart-I'm going to the corner for the papers."

Eleanor suddenly remembered her share in the telling of the story about the fire, and she jumped out of bed. "I'm going to hurry down and read what the paper says about the fire," said she.

Polly turned over and stretched lazily. "I don't care what they say. I'm going to sleep all day."

Eleanor was annoyed. "No, you won't! We've got to keep a date with Mr.

Fabian this noon, and you've _got to_ get up!"

"Oh, that's so! Mr. Fabian is going to take us to Grand Central Palace to show us how carpets are made. I forgot that exhibition was to-day."

And Polly jumped up at that remembrance when other things had failed to move her.

The girls were downstairs in time to open the front door for Mr.

Maynard. He was grinning teasingly, as he tried to keep a great ma.s.s of morning papers from slipping out from under his arm. He held out an opened sheet for the girls to see.

"Oh, what a horrid face! Who is it?" exclaimed Eleanor.

"The paper states it is you, my dear," laughed her father.

"What-never! Oh, what awful people these newspaper men are! Dad, can't you go down there and horse-whip them? I never looked like that in all my life!" and Eleanor stamped her foot in a fury.