"
This remark seemed to pour water upon all the anger in Mr. Pidgen's
heart. His eyes expressed scorn, but not now for Mr. Lasher--for
himself. His whole figure drooped and was bowed like a robin in a
thunderstorm.
"That's true enough. Bless my soul, Lasher, that's true enough. They
hardly sell at all. I've written a dozen of them now, 'The Blue Pouncet
Box,' 'The Three-tailed Griffin,' 'The Tree without any Branches,' but
you won't want to be bothered with the names of them. 'The Griffin' went
into two editions, but it was only because the pictures were rather
sentimental. I've often said to myself, 'If a thing doesn't sell in
these days it must be good,' but I've not really convinced myself. I'd
like them to have sold. Always, until now, I've had hopes of the next
one, and thought that it would turn out better, like a woman with her
babies. I seem to have given up expecting that now. It isn't, you know,
being always hard-up that I mind so much, although that, mind you, isn't
pleasant, no, by Jehoshaphat, it isn't. But we would like now and again
to find that other people have enjoyed what one hoped they _would_
enjoy.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32