Anne instantly manufactured a smile and put it on.
“Of course I couldn’t be anything but pleased over your unselfish wish to give me pleasure,” she said slowly. “But you know—I’m so amazed—I can’t realize it—and I don’t understand. There wasn’t a word in my story about—about—” Anne choked a little over the word—“baking powder.”
“Oh, I put that in,” said Diana, reassured. “It was as easy as wink—and of course my experience in our old Story Club helped me. You know the scene where Averil makes the cake? Well, I just stated that she used the Rollings Reliable in it, and that was why it turned out so well; and then, in the last paragraph, where Perceval clasps Averil in his arms and says, ‘Sweetheart, the beautiful coming years will bring us the fulfilment of our home of dreams,’ I added, ‘in which we will never use any baking powder except Rollings Reliable.’”
“Oh,” gasped poor Anne, as if some one had dashed cold water on her.
“And you’ve won the twenty-five dollars,” continued Diana jubilantly. “Why, I heard Priscilla say once that the Canadian Woman only pays five dollars for a story!”
Anne held out the hateful pink slip in shaking fingers.
“I can’t take it—it’s yours by right, Diana. You sent the story in and made the alterations. I—I would certainly never have sent it. So you must take the check.”
