She lived scantily at home, never expecting any luxury or great pleasure to come into her own life.
But two years ago a queer thing had happened to her.

In an idle hour she wrote a comical squib and sent it to a New York paper.

As everybody knows, fun, even vulgar fun, sells high in the market.

Her fun was not vulgar, but coarse and biting enough to tickle the ears of the common reader.

The editor offered her a salary equal to her whole income for a weekly column of such fooling.
She had hoarded every penny of this money.