He laughed gleefully. "Too much! I only wish I had too much to do, Ellen. Never fear, dear."
"I wish you would teach me to correct the proofs."
"What an idea!"
"I shall teach myself, sir."
"It would be waste of time, young lady. I could not let anybody go over my proofs but myself."
"You vain fellow! I wonder if self-conceit is indigenous to you literary men? Are they all as vain as Hamish Channing?"
He took up the pen-wiper and threw it at her. But somehow Ellen was not in a mood for much jesting tonight. She put the pen-wiper--a rosette of red cloth--on the table again, and went and stood in silence with her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head.
"What is it, love?"
"Hamish, I would bring in your tea willingly; you know it; but I think it would do you more good to leave this work, if only for five minutes. And I have something to say to you."
"Very well. I can't come for a quarter of an hour. You are a regular martinet."