“Ladies and gentlemen and Baby Alymer Hermon,” she began. “You must allow me to acknowledge your kind toast by congratulating you all, in return, upon the sudden and swift development of you powers of vision and perspicacity: equalled only, I may say, by your extraordinary dullness in not having observed long ago those traits for which you are pleased, at this late hour, to offer me your congratulations. Before I sit down I should like to suggest we all drink the healths of the celebrated actress who is our hostess, of a bishop in the making—” signifying Quin; “a great novelist in the brewing, and a gentleman justly celebrated for the eloquence and ease with which he does nothing at all”—and she bowed to Lord Denton.
“Capital!” he exclaimed. “I am evidently dining in very distinguished company tonight”; a little later, turning to Dick, he added: “How soon, may I ask, will this great novel be procurable by the general public?”
Before Dick could reply, Hal intercepted gaily:
“Well, I think the carrots and turnips have fallen out as to which takes precedence at a dinner-party: isn’t that so, Dick? And until the difficult question is settled, progress halts.”
“Something of the kind,” agreed Dick promptly; “and there is also discord among the vegetable marrows and pumpkins on a similar question; but when the Baby Brigade has settled the views of the Trade Unions, and reversed the Osborne Judgment, we shall be able to proceed smoothly.”
“It sounds a very extraordinary type of novel,” said Lorraine.
“It is. I wanted, if possible, to write something even more imbecile than has ever yet been written. I have not the patience for great length; nor the wit for brilliant satire; nor the imagination for the popular, spicy, impossible, ill-flavoured romance; so I have chosen the other line, adopted by the great majority, and aim at purposeless, pointless imbecility.”
“And is Hal the model for your heroine?” asked Hermon.
When Hal’s indignation and epithets had subsided, Quin remarked that he supposed the book fairly bristled with mothers, and with paragraphs of good advice to them.
“Well, yes,” Dick admitted. “There are certainly a good many mothers—far more mothers than wives, in fact.”