"My dear child," said Field, "among the illusions of a man's youth is the belief that, if he goes through life doing his humble best in an unobtrusive way, the Press will say what a jolly fine fellow he is, and hold him up as a pattern to all the braggarts and poseurs who are blowing their own trumpets, and scraping on their own fiddles. Among the things he learns as he grows older is the fact that, if he does his best in an unobtrusive way, the Press will say nothing about him at all. The fiddle and the trumpet are essential; but it is possible to play them with a certain amount of refinement. It is even possible—though a clever man cannot dispense with the fiddle and the trumpet—for the fiddle and the trumpet to be played so dexterously that he may dispense with cleverness. I do not go to such lengths myself——"
"You have no need to do so," she said coldly.
"I have no need to do so—thank you. But I can quite conceive that, say, violets and maraschino, worked for all they were worth, might alone make a man famous. A mouse liberated a lion, and things smaller than a mouse have created one before now. The violet in the hedgerow 'bloomed unseen,'—or 'died unknown,' was it? it did something modest and unsuccessful, I know. The violet assiduously paragraphed and paraded might lead to fortune."
"I would rather be obscure and do honest, conscientious work," answered Mamie, "than write rubbish, and finesse myself into popularity."
"It is much easier," he said tranquilly. "To be obscure is the one thing that is easy still. You don't mind my saying that I hate the adjectives you used, though, do you? The words 'honest' and 'conscientious,' applied to literature, dearest, make me shudder. I am always afraid that 'wholesome' is coming in the next sentence."
"Are you going to say so to your interviewer?"
"The remark isn't brilliant. It was sincere, and to be sincere and brilliant at the same time is a little difficult.... I've been both, though, in the scene I've just done; you must read it, or rather I'll read it to you. You'll be pleased with it. As soon as the piece is finished I must write to Erskine. It will suit the Pall Mall down to the ground, and I should like it done there, only——"
"Only what?"
Field hesitated.
"I meant it for Erskine from the start. He saw the scenario, and the part fits him like a glove."