"
"I have written so far over the name of Franklin."
"That will do very well for essays, but is not appropriate for
stories."
"Suppose you suggest a name, Oscar."
"How will 'Fitz Fletcher' do?"
"Mr. Fletcher would not permit me to take such a liberty."
"And you wouldn't want to take it."
"Not much."
"Let me see. I suppose I must task my invention, then. How will Old
Nick do?"
"People would think you wrote the story."
"A fair hit. Hold on, I've got just the name. Frank Lynn."
"I thought you objected to that name."
"You don't understand me. I mean two names, not one. Frank Lynn!
Don't you see?"
"Yes, it's a good plan. I'll adopt it."
"Who knows but you may make the name illustrious, Harry?"
"If I do, I'll dedicate my first boot to Oscar Vincent."
"Shake hands on that. I accept the dedication with mingled feelings
of gratitude and pleasure."
"Better wait till you get it," said Harry, laughing. "Don't count
your chickens before they're hatched."
"The first egg is laid, and that's something. But here we are at the
office."
It was a building containing a large number of offices. The names of
the respective occupants were printed on slips of black tin at the
entrance. From this, Harry found that the office of the "Weekly
Standard" was located at No. 6.
"My heart begins to beat, Oscar," said Harry, naturally excited in
anticipation of an interview with one who could open the gates of
authorship to him.
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