“That was not extravagant praise,” remarked Susy.
“He didn’t mean to praise it,” said Edward. “But when I asked him if anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one of the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it—one of them had taken it away a second time; and—would you believe it?—while I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand for ‘Evelina,’ as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was already on the desk.”
“For the delectation of the servants’ hall?” suggested Fanny.
“Not at all—it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship was liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the ordinary fourpence.”
“That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,” said Fanny.
“Don’t interrupt him,” cried Susy. “Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am dying to hear the rest.”
“I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he replied that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he remembered the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,” said Edward.
“The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,” remarked Fanny.
“I ran out of the place roaring,” said Edward. “‘A peer of high rank but eccentric habits’—describes you to a T, doesn’t it, Cousin Fanny? Pray what is your lordship’s next work to be, and when will it be given to an eager world?”