ury clasped her hands together as she poured
forth the words of her prayer. 'I never asked you to do anything for
me as long as you were editing the paper. Did I? I did not think it
right, and I would not do it. I took my chance like others, and I am
sure you must own that I bore what was said of me with a good grace. I
never complained. Did I?'

'Certainly not.'

'But now that you have left it yourself,--if you would have the "Wheel
of Fortune" done for me,--really well done!'

'The "Wheel of Fortune"!'

'That is the name of my novel,' said Lady Carbury, putting her hand
softly upon the manuscript. 'Just at this moment it would be the
making of a fortune for me! And oh, Mr Alf, if you could but know how
I want such assistance!'

'I have nothing further to do with the editorial management, Lady
Carbury.'

'Of course you could get it done. A word from you would make it
certain. A novel is different from an historical work, you know. I
have taken so much pains with it.'

'Then no doubt it will be praised on its own merits.'

'Don't say that, Mr Alf. The "Evening Pulpit" is like,--oh, it is
like,--like,--like the throne of heaven! Who can be justified before
it? Don't talk about its own merits, but say that you will have it
done. It couldn't do any man any harm, and it would sell five hundred
copies at once,--that is if it were done really con amore.' Mr Alf
looked at her almost piteously, and shook his head. 'The paper stands
so high, it can't hurt it to do that kind of thing once. A woman is
asking you, Mr Alf. It is for my children that I am struggling. The
thing is done every day of the week, with much less noble motives.'

'I do not think that it has ever been done by the "Evening Pulpit."'

'I have seen books praised.'

'Of course you have.'

'I think I saw a novel spoken highly of.'

Mr Alf laughed. 'Why not? You do not suppose that it is the object of
the "Pulpit" to cry down novels?'

'I thought it was; but I thought you might make an exception here. I
would be so thankful;--so grateful.'

'My dear Lady Carbury, pray believe me when I say that I have nothing
to do with it. I need not preach to you sermons about literary virtue.'

'Oh, no,' she said, not quite understanding what he meant.

'The sceptre has passed from my hands, and I need not vindicate the
justice of my successor.'

'I shall never know your successor.'

'But I must assure you that on no account should I think of meddling
w