"So stupid of Eustace! Why can't he do what father wishes?" Maggie said yesterday, and Thyrza's black eyes flashed with silent indignation.
I am more and more convinced that Thyrza has a very strong affection for her eldest brother, though she seldom or never shows it in her manner when with him; and he is uniformly the same to all his sisters.
[CHAPTER XV.]
THAT PUBLISHER!!
THE SAME.
June 16. Tuesday.
MAGGIE'S story has been returned, as any one might have foretold. She has wondered much over the delay, devising all sorts of extraordinary reasons for the same, and she has written repeatedly to remonstrate with the publisher. Poor man! No doubt he has cartloads of such rubbish tilted upon his devoted head. I feel a certain sense of satisfaction in having never contributed my quota to the load,—though perhaps I could achieve a passable second-rate story, if I chose.
Maggie's remonstrances having brought no result, she persuaded her father to write. I believe Mr. Romilly accomplished some six pages, to be fired by post at the same luckless publisher, after a morning of dire effort and mighty consultation. And the six pages, whether read or unread, took effect. For within forty-eight hours a tied up manuscript arrived; and—this being the "most unkindest cut of all,"—no letter of explanation accompanied it; not even one half-page.
The publisher's ears ought to have burned that morning, with the things said of him at our breakfast-table. Everybody, trying in affectionate family conclave to comfort the crest-fallen Maggie, vied one with another in hot indignation at his decision. Never was there living man so lacking in taste, so utterly unappreciative. Such a sweet pretty story,—and he not to want to bring it out! Well, then he didn't deserve to have it! Maggie would soon find a more sensible publisher. Of course it was well-known that all the greatest authors always have the most difficulty at the beginning, and all the best books are always refused by a dozen publishers before one enlightened man consents to bring them out! So being refused meant nothing at all: only he might just have had the politeness to write and explain exactly why he didn't want it, and what he disliked in the tale. And of course he would have done so, if there were anything really to dislike. But never mind, Maggie must just try somebody else, and she would be sure to succeed, and very likely would get twenty pounds after all, instead of only fifteen.
I could not help remembering, as I listened in silent amusement to all this, how Gladys had remarked, a day or two before, "What kind pleasant people editors and publishers seemed to be!" But it was not for me to remark on the contrast. Maggie must, find her own level, through the stern realities of failure.