. Browne, however,
is above being snubbed by anyone. He continues on his way rejoicing.

"Thou living flame!" cries he, making what he fondly supposes to be a
stage attitude. "Thou thing of beauty. Though _fleshpot of Egypt_!"

He has at last surpassed himself! He stands silent waiting for the
plaudits of the crowd. The crowd, however, is unappreciative.

"Nonsense!" says Miss Kavanagh shortly. "I wonder you aren't tired of
_making_ people tired. Your eternal quotations would destroy the
patience of an anchorite. And as for that last sentence of yours, you
know very well it isn't in Rider Haggard's book. He'd have been ashamed
of it."

"_Would_ he? Bet you he wouldn't! And if it isn't in his book, all I can
say is it ought to have been. Mere oversight leaving it out. He _will_
be sorry if I drop him a line about it. Shouldn't wonder if it produced
a new edition. But for my part, I believe it _is_ in the book.
Fleshpots, Egypt, you know; hardly possible to separate 'em now from the
public mind."

"Well; he could separate them any way. There isn't a single word about
them in the book from start to finish."

"No? D'ye say so?" Here Mr. Browne grows lost in thought.
"Fleshpots--pots--hot pots; hot _potting_! Hah!" He draws himself
together with all the manner of one who has gone down deep into a thing,
and comes up from it full of knowledge. "I've 'mixed those babies up,'"
says he mildly. "But still I can hardly believe that that last valuable
addition to Mr. Haggard's work is all my own."

"Distinctly your own," with a suggestion of scorn, completely thrown
away upon the receiver of it.

"D'ye say so! By Jove! And very neat too! Didn't think I had it in me.
After all to write a book is an easy matter; here am I, who never
thought about it, was able to form an entire sentence full of the most
exquisite wit and humor without so much as knowing I was doing it. Tell
you what, Joyce, I'll send it to the author with a card and my
compliments you know. Horrid thing to be _mean_ about anything, and if I
can help him out with a 999th edition or so, I'll be doing him a good
turn. Eh?"

"I suppose you think you are amusing," says Miss Kavanagh, regarding him
with a critical eye.

"My good child, I _know_ that expression," says Mr. Browne, amiably. "I
know it by heart. It means that you think I'm a fool. It's politer
now-a-days to look things than to say them, but wait awhile and you'll
_see_. Come; I'll bet you a shillin