ambitions, and make a story of them. Thought and action were one with Bambi. In five minutes’ time she had pencil and paper, and had set forth on her new adventure.
For the next few days she was so absorbed in her experiment that she almost neglected the “Heavenly Twins.” The Professor commented on her abstraction, and Ardelia complained that “everybody in dis heah house is crazy, all of them studyin’ and writin’; yo’ cain’t even sing a hallelujah but somebody is a shoutin’, ‘Sh!’”
Only Jarvis failed to note any change. It was too much to expect that the great Jocelyn could concentrate on any but his own mental attitudes.
Like most facile people, Bambi was bored with her masterpiece at the end of a week, and abandoned it without a sigh. She decided that literature was not to be enriched by her. In fact, she never gave a thought to her first-born child until a month after its birth, when a New York magazine fell into her hands offering a prize of $500 for a short story. She took out her manuscript and read it over with a sense of surprise. She marched off to a stenographer, had it typed, and sent it to the contest, using a pen name as a signature, and then she promptly forgot about it.
