had no opinion
of his own whether the lady or the reviewer were right; but he knew
very well that the 'Evening Pulpit' would surely get the better of any
mere author in such a contention. 'Never fight the newspapers, Lady
Carbury. Who ever yet got any satisfaction by that kind of thing?
It's their business, and you are not used to it.'

'And Mr Alf my particular friend! It does seem so hard,' said Lady
Carbury, wiping hot tears from her cheeks.

'It won't do us the least harm, Lady Carbury.'

'It'll stop the sale?'

'Not much. A book of that sort couldn't hope to go on very long, you
know. The "Breakfast Table" gave it an excellent lift, and came just
at the right time. I rather like the notice in the "Pulpit," myself.'

'Like it!' said Lady Carbury, still suffering in every fibre of her
self-love from the soreness produced by those Juggernaut's car-wheels.

'Anything is better than indifference, Lady Carbury. A great many
people remember simply that the book has been noticed, but carry away
nothing as to the purport of the review. It's a very good
advertisement.'

'But to be told that I have got to learn the A B C of history after
working as I have worked!'

'That's a mere form of speech, Lady Carbury.'

'You think the book has done pretty well?'

'Pretty well;--just about what we hoped, you know.'

'There'll be something coming to me, Mr Leadham?'

Mr Leadham sent for a ledger, and turned over a few pages and ran up a
few figures, and then scratched his head. There would be something,
but Lady Carbury was not to imagine that it could be very much. It did
not often happen that a great deal could be made by a first book.
Nevertheless, Lady Carbury, when she left the publisher's shop, did
carry a cheque with her. She was smartly dressed and looked very well,
and had smiled on Mr Leadham. Mr Leadham, too, was no more than man,
and had written--a small cheque.

Mr Alf certainly had behaved badly to her; but both Mr Broune, of the
'Breakfast Table' and Mr Booker of the 'Literary Chronicle' had been
true to her interests. Lady Carbury had, as she promised, 'done' Mr
Booker's 'New Tale of a Tub' in the 'Breakfast Table.' That is, she
had been allowed, as a reward for looking into Mr Broune's eyes, and
laying her soft hand on Mr Broune's sleeve, and suggesting to Mr
Broune that no one understood her so well as he did, to bedaub Mr
Booker's very thoughtful book in a very thoughtless fashion,--and to be
paid for