"Now you are talking nonsense," cried Jenny, ruthlessly interrupting him. "I won't hear a word more, you ridiculous boy. You are my brother, nothing more."
"But——"
"Don't talk about it, Frank. Be sensible. Come now, you have not yet told me how your father received the news."
"Oh, he is pleased, of course," said Linton, unwillingly changing the subject; "but he reserves his opinion till he has read the book. If he doesn't like it he'll very likely order me to stop writing."
"I'm sure he won't," said Jenny promptly. "You'll make more as an author than as a lawyer."
"No doubt, if you continue to supply me with such excellent plots. I wish I had your invention, Jenny."
"It was not invention. You know that quite well. I found an account of the trial in an old bundle of provincial newspapers. I couldn't have made up such a story."
"Jenny," asked Linton, with some apprehension, "has your father read the book?"
"No; I asked him to do so, but he refuses to read novels. History is what he likes—kings and dates, and battles. Father wouldn't waste a minute over fiction."
"I hope he won't be angry at your giving me the plot, Jenny."