one perambulator, as a
special treat. In the newspapers they are invariably referred to as Mr.
Shakspere Knight's 'pretty children' or Mrs. Shakspere Knight's
'charming twins.' Geraldine, who has abandoned the pen, is undisputed
ruler of the material side of Henry's life. The dinners and the
receptions at Cumberland Place are her dinners and receptions. Henry has
no trouble; he does what he is told, and does it neatly. Only once did
he indicate to her, in his mild, calm way, that he could draw a line
when he chose. He chose to draw the line when Geraldine spoke of
engaging a butler, and perhaps footmen.

'I couldn't stand a butler,' said Henry.

'But, dearest, a great house like this----'

'I couldn't stand a butler,' said Henry.

'As you wish, dearest, of course.'

He would not have minded the butler, perhaps, had not his mother and
Aunt Annie been in the habit of coming up to Cumberland Place for tea.

Upon the whole the newspapers and periodicals were very kind to Henry,
and even the rudest organs were deeply interested in him. Each morning
his secretary opened an enormous packet of press-cuttings. In a good
average year he was referred to in print as a genius about a thousand
times, and as a charlatan about twenty times. He was not thin-skinned;
and he certainly was good-tempered and forgiving; and he could make
allowances for jealousy and envy. Nevertheless, now and then, some
casual mention of him, or some omission of his name from a list of
names, would sting him into momentary bitterness.

He endeavoured to enforce his old rule against interviews. But he could
not. The power of public opinion was too strong, especially the power of
American public opinion. As for photographs, they increased. He was
photographed alone, with Geraldine, with the twins, and with Geraldine
and the twins. It had to be. For permission to reproduce the most
pleasing groups, Messrs. Antonio, the eminent firm in Regent Street,
charged weekly papers a fee of two guineas.

'And this is fame!' he sometimes said to himself. And he decided that,
though fame was pleasant in many ways, it did not exactly coincide with
his early vision of it. He felt himself to be so singularly
unchangeable! It was always the same he! And he could only wear one suit
of clothes at a time, after all; and in the matter of eating, he ate
less, much less, than in the era of Dawes Road. He persisted in his
scheme of two meals a day, for it had fulfilled the d