The old woman drew herself back at the unwarrantable freedom of this man calling her "my dear madam."
The visitor took no notice--in fact, did not observe her manner. He went on:
"We have never met before; and you owe my visit to the flattering fact that you have a grandson, whose name is now a household word in all England."
"Sir!" she said, rising angrily.
He did not see her anger.
"I have come, my dear madam, to know if you will be good enough to furnish me with additional particulars about your grandson, about his youth, and so on--in short a brief biography. I represent The Wyechester Independent and one of the most influential metropolitan dailies. Any facts you will be good enough to give me will not, you may be certain, suffer in my hands. I will do the best I can to make them light and readable. Any anecdote of your grandson's prowess as, say, a boxer or a cricketer, while a boy, would be peculiarly acceptable, particularly if there was a touch of magnanimity about it. One of the fruits of my long experience is that nothing appeals so universally to the British public as magnanimous muscle."
The old woman stood pale and without the power of speech while he made this long harangue. When he paused she raised her arm, and, pointing with a long thin yellow finger at the door, said huskily:
"Go, sir; go at once!" She could say no more.
He bounded to his feet in amazement. He had no intention to hurt or offend. Nothing was farther from his thoughts. He had been simply heedless, full of his own mind, unobservant.
"I am sure I beg your pardon," he said, in a tone of sincere apology. "I had no intention of causing you any annoyance. I thought you might like to make the Independent and the Metropolitan Vindicator the medium----"