Somewhat daunted by this reception, Jo hesitated on the threshold, murmuring in much embarrassment...
"Excuse me, I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office.

I wished to see Mr.Dashwood." Down went the highest pair of heels, up rose the smokiest gentleman, and carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers, he advanced with a nod and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep.

Feeling that she must get through the matter somehow, Jo produced her manuscript and, blushing redder and redder with each sentence, blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the occasion.
"A friend of mine desired me to offer--a story--just as an experiment--would like your opinion--be glad to write more if this suits." While she blushed and blundered, Mr.Dashwood had taken the manuscript, and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers, and casting critical glances up and down the neat pages.
"Not a first attempt, I take it ?" observing that the pages were numbered, covered only on one side, and not tied up with a ribbon--sure sign of a novice.
"No, sir.

She has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the _Blarneystone Banner_." "Oh, did she ?" and Mr.Dashwood gave Jo a quick look, which seemed to take note of everything she had on, from the bow in her bonnet to the buttons on her boots.

"Well, you can leave it, if you like.