Seven years ago Susy gave her play for the first time. The pleasant land of play is a democracy where such things donot count. It would seem that every one receiving the invitation must have respondedto it, for on the morning of April 1st a stupefying mass of letters wasunloaded on Mark Twain's table. He repeated some of the things Mark Twain had said; thoughtfully, as if trying to analyze their magic.
Sometimes, in the evening, they gatheredin one of the cottages and told stories by the firelight, and once hetol nliness and courage, who has emerged from great struggles victorious, and the assembled diners roared out their applause. Nothing but the strictest hiding can enable me to write my book in time. He had noticed that his ticket was to a differentdestination than the Archbishop's, and so, when the
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