"Yes," Hazel returned. "My brother Edward," intimating Teddie, who looked very much at home, sitting well forward in his chair, his stick between his knees, his chin resting upon its knob, "has known you to take a story, not nearly so good, he says."
"Not half, by Jove!" put in Teddie.
"You would not like to read it now?" suggested Hazel. "It would not take you long."
"I think not," Mr. Langham replied. "You see, that is not our usual way; but if you will leave it with me, I will place it in the hands of our reader, who will give me his report."
"Yes, I see," Hazel said, a trifle disappointed.
"You don't think you could make a concession for once?" asked Teddie.
"I think not," Mr. Langham repeated, pulling at his moustache. "It would be very irregular."
"Of course," responded Teddie politely. "You see, Hazel, that is what readers are for: to save the editors the trouble and loss of time incurred in reading a lot of unacceptable rubbish."
"And Mr. Langham cannot know that mine is not rubbish," Hazel rejoined, wishing to be reasonable. "It is called 'The Victoria Cross, and How it was Won,'" she continued, turning to the editor. "The hero goes to the front, and there is a tremendous battle, which I think I have succeeded in making very realistic."
"Stunning," put in Teddie.