'Stop Jabbering, Girls!'

The spread eagle might be said to flap his wings triumphantly over the house of march as the paper passed from hand to hand. How jo laughed with tears in her eyes as she declared she might as well be a peacock and done with it. The man said he liked them both, but didn't pay beginners. Only let them print in his paper and notice the stories. It was good practice, he said, and when the beginners improved, any one would pay. Jo's breath gave out here, and wrapping her head in the paper, she bedewed her little story with a few natural tears. For to be independent and earn the praise of those she loved were the dearest