“Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name of this particular item of poverty?”
“There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr. Anstey himself.”
“What! another 'Bath Guide'!”
“Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night reading it.”
“Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to send you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as possible; 'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words that Shakespeare ever writ.”
“What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you sleep I will know that I may continue it for myself—it will be more wholesome than poppy or mandragora.”
“Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters; one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can actually go in point of dullness.”
“I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three volumes.”
“So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's dullness? We should be grateful to Susy—so should the author. Well, you shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: Le livre ne vaut pas la chandelle.”
“Nous verrons,” cried Fanny.