"They were so, sir," returned the critic; "we make it a rule in our profession to assert that fact."
"But, sir," said Paul, "they were wrong now and then."
"Never, Ignoramus; never!"
"They praised poverty, Mr. MacGrawler!" said Paul, with a sigh.
"Hem!" quoth the critic, a little staggered; but presently recovering his characteristic, acumen, he observed, "It is true, Paul; but that was the poverty of other people."
There was a slight pause. "Criticism," renewed Paul, "must be a most difficult art."
"A-hem! And what art is there, sir, that is not difficult,—at least, to become master of?"
"True," sighed Paul; "or else—"
"Or else what, boy?" repeated Mr. MacGrawler, seeing that Paul hesitated, either from fear of his superior knowledge, as the critic's vanity suggested, or from (what was equally likely) want of a word to express his meaning.
"Why, I was thinking, sir," said Paul, with that desperate courage which gives a distinct and loud intonation to the voice of all who set, or think they set, their fate upon a cast,—"I was thinking that I should like to become a critic myself!"