But I don't know, they always seem too old for children and too
young for grown-ups--my stories, I mean."
It was one of the hardest traits in Mr. Lasher's character, as Hugh well
realised, "to rub it in" over a fallen foe. He considered this his duty;
it was also, I am afraid, a pleasure. "It's a pity," he said, "that
things should not have gone better; but there are so many writers to-day
that I wonder any one writes at all. We live in a practical, realistic
age. The leaders amongst us have decided that every man must gird his
loins and go out to fight his battles with real weapons in a real cause,
not sit dreaming at his windows looking down upon the busy
market-place." (Mr. Lasher loved what he called "images." There were
many in his sermons.) "But, my dear Pidgen, it is in no way too late.
Give up your fairy stories now that they have been proved a failure."
Here Mr. Pidgen, in the most astonishing way, was suddenly in a terrible
temper. "They're not!" he almost screamed. "Not at all. Failures, from
the worldly point of view, yes; but there are some who understand. I
would not have done anything else if I could.
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