as
I'd wish to see. Give that feller an education and put him to a
profession, thinks I, and he'll be a credit to you some of these days.
And see what's come of it!'

'It's very sad--very sad for all of us, I'm sure,' sighed Mrs.
Ashburn.

At this, Trixie, who had been listening to it all with hot cheeks and
trembling lips, could hold out no longer.

'You talk of Mark--Uncle and all of you,' she said, looking prettier
for her indignation, 'as if he was a disgrace to us all! You seem to
think he's starving somewhere in a garret, and unknown to everybody.
But he's nothing of the sort--he's famous already, whether you believe
it or not. You ought to be proud of him.'

'Beatrix, you forget yourself,' said her mother; 'before your uncle,
too.'

'I can't help it,' said Trixie; 'there's no one to speak up for poor
Mark but me, ma, and I must. And it's all quite true. I hear all about
books and things from--at the Art School where I go, and Mark's book
is being talked about _everywhere_! And you needn't be afraid of his
coming to you for money, Uncle, for I was told that Mark will be able
to get as much money as ever he likes for his next books; he will be
quite rich, and all just by writing! And nobody but you here seems to
think the worse of him for what he has done! I'll show you what the
papers say about him presently. Why, even _your_ paper, ma, the
"Weekly Horeb," has a long article praising Mark's book this week, so
I should think it can't be so very wicked. Wait a minute, and you
shall see!'

And Trixie burst impetuously out of the room to fetch the book in
which she had pasted the reviews, leaving the others in a rather
crestfallen condition, Uncle Solomon especially looking straight in
front of him with a fish-like stare, being engaged in trying to
assimilate the very novel ideas of a literary career which had just
been put before him.

Mrs. Ashburn muttered something about Trixie being always headstrong
and never given to serious things, but even she was a little shaken by
the unexpected testimony of her favourite oracle, the 'Horeb.'

'Look here, Uncle,' said Trixie, returning with the book and laying it
down open before him. 'See what the ---- says, and the ----; oh, and
all of them!'

'_I_ don't want to see 'em,' he said, sulkily pushing the book from
him. 'Take the things away, child; who cares what they say? They're
all at the same scribbling business themselves; o' course they'd crack
up one anot