written several books on them. Professor said the novel seemed to him very light and trashy, but grammatically O.K. He said he never read novels, not having time, but he thought that "The Crimson Cord" was just about the sort of thing a silly public that refused to buy his "Some Light on the Dynastic Proclivities of the Hyksos" would scramble for. On the whole I considered the report satisfactory. We found we would be unable to have Pyle illustrate the book, he being too busy, so we turned it over to a young man at the Art Institute. That was the fifteenth of October, and we had promised the book to the public for the first of November, but we had it already in type and the young man, his name was Gilkowsky, promised to work night and day on the illustrations. The next morning, almost as soon as I reached the office, Gilkowsky came in. He seemed a little hesitant, but I welcomed him warmly, and he spoke up. "I have a girl to go with," he said, and I wondered what I had to do with Mr. Gilkowsky's girl, but he continued: "She's a nice girl and a good looker, but she's got bad taste in some things. She's too loud in hats, and too trashy in literature. I don't like to say this about her, but it's true and I'm trying to educate her in good hats and good literature. So I thought it would be a good thing to take around this 'Crimson Cord' and let her read it to me." I nodded. "Did she like it?" I asked. Mr. Gilkowsky looked at me closely. "She did," he said, but not so enthusiastically as I had expected. "It's her favorite book. Now, I don't know what your scheme is, and I suppose you know what you are doing better than I do; but I thought perhaps I had better come around before I got to work on the illustrations and see if perhaps you hadn't given me the wrong manuscript." "No, that was the right manuscript," I said. "Was there anything wrong about it?" Mr. Gilkowsky laughed nervously. "Oh, no!" he said. "But did you read it?" I told him I had not because I had been so rushed with
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