"It was Sir George Repington—I remember now—he wrote from the North."
"Sir George Repington?" exclaimed Charles, completely surprized. "Humph! I wish him joy of my effusions."
"Oh, no doubt he'll like them or he wouldn't have sent all that way for them. Well! well! some men are mighty whimsical in their tastes, and there's no denying that people do read verses."
"However," said Charles, "I take it the taste is not an extended one?"
"Well! you mustn't complain. You had two hundred taken by subscription and half a dozen copies sold to casual purchasers. You won't lose a vast deal over the publication."
"No," said Charles, "you wouldn't like that?"
"No, indeed I shouldn't, sir, I take a pride in the success of my clients. So did my father, sir, and he became an alderman of this town, though he was a native of Exeter."
"I take it, then, you are not prepared to offer a sum of money on account of a new volume?"
"Ho-ho!" laughed Mr. Virgin, "what a droll gentleman you are to be sure. You will have your joke, and don't seem to regard how busy I am."
"Very well, sir," said Charles, "I'll wish you a good night."