“... murmured the chambermaid, blushing.”
“... repeated the burglar, bursting into tears.”
“... replied the conductor, flipping the ash from his cigar.”
“... responded Arkwright, with a laugh.”
“... murmured the chief of police, blushing.”
“... repeated the house-cat, bursting into tears.”
And so on and so on; till at last it ceases to excite. I always notice stage directions, because they fret me and keep me trying to get out of their way, just as the automobiles do. At first; then by and by they become monotonous and I get run over.
Mr. Howells has done much work, and the spirit of it is as beautiful as the make of it. I have held him in admiration and affection so many years that I know by the number of those years that he is old now; but his heart isn’t, nor his pen; and years do not count. Let him have plenty of them; there is profit in them for us.