s, I do. I seem to remember that the _Morning Report_ was
unkind. Not quite fair, I should say!"

Lord Jasper began to take an intelligent interest in the conversation.
"Have you published another book, Boltt?" he asked innocently.

"Yes ... a ... Lord Jasper ... I have!" Mr. Boltt said, and there was
some sniffiness in his tones. He was accustomed to lengthy reviews on
the day of publication, and it annoyed him to think that there was some
one in the world, some one, too, with whom he was acquainted, who did
not know that the publication of one of his books was an event.

"I can't think how you writing chaps keep it up," said Jimphy. "I
couldn't write a book to save my life!..."

"No?" said Mr. Boltt, smiling in the way of one who says to himself,
"God help you, my poor fellow, God help you!"

"I suppose it's all a question of knack," Jimphy continued. "You get
into the way of it and you can't stop. Sometimes a tune gets into my
head and I have to keep on humming it or whistling it. I'm not what
you'd call a sentimental fellow at all, but that song ... you know,
about the honeysuckle and the bee ... I _could not_ get that song out of
my head. I thought I should go cracked over it. Always humming it or
whistling it ... and I suppose if you get an idea for a yarn into your
head, Boltt, well, it's something like that!"

Lady Cecily had exhausted the "chatter" of Mr. Lensley.

"What's that!" she exclaimed.

"Lord Jasper is describing the processes of literature to me, Lady
Cecily," said Mr. Boltt sarcastically. "I have been greatly interested."

The man's conceit irritated Henry and he longed to disconcert him.

"Yes," he said. "It all began by my saying something about a review of
Boltt's last novel in the _Morning Report!_ ..."

Mr. Boltt made motions with his hands. "Really," he said, "Lady Cecily
isn't in the least interested in my effusions."

"Oh, but I am, Mr. Boltt," Lady Cecily interrupted. "What did the paper
say? I'm sure it was very flattering!..."

"The reviewer said that the book would probably please the vicar's only
daughter, but that it wouldn't impose upon her when she grew up...."

"Oh!" said Lady Cecily.

"Some rival, I'm afraid!" Mr. Boltt murmured. "Some one who dislikes
me...."

"The chief complaint was that your people aren't real...." Henry
continued, though Mr. Boltt frowned heavily.

"Yes. I don't think we need discuss the matter further, Mr...."

"Quinn!!" said Henry.

He