Part 3 (1/2)

”The fact is,” he began, ”a firm like ours is unable to use more than one novel out of fifty that is submitted to it. Of our friends who send us ma.n.u.scripts, the vast majority must, therefore, be disappointed. Now, your story--shall I be frank?”

”By all means,” answered Miss Fern.

”Your story, though written with spirit and power, needs a great deal of revision from a--from a rhetorical standpoint. It is, in fact, carelessly put together. That is a cardinal fault in a literary production, and one for which no amount of talent, or even of genius, can compensate.”

The girl listened with deep interest. She tried to think where the blemishes alluded to could be, for she had read the story twenty times.

To say nothing of several girl friends, who had listened with evident wonder and delight, to various parts of the tale, as it progressed.

”If that is true,” answered Miss Fern, slowly--, ”could not the trouble be remedied by sending the MSS. to some very competent person and having the errors made right?”

Mr. Gouger smiled.

”Hardly,” he said. ”A novel is like a painting. The _ensemble_--do you understand?--is the thing. Can you conceive a painting being 'done over'? Your book would lose its quality if subjected to that process.”

A look of discouragement crossed the features of the young woman.

”Of course, you know best,” she stammered. ”What would you advise me--try again?”

Mr. Gouger raised both his hands.

”It is difficult to say, in such a case,” he replied. ”But--if you want my best opinion--”

”That is just what I want,” said the girl, with ill-concealed impatience.

”You are not dependent upon your exertions, I suppose, for a living?”

Millicent shook her head, almost sorry at the moment that she could not reply in the affirmative.

”Then--I should give up the idea of being an auth.o.r.ess.”

This was very unpalatable medicine, and the critic realized it as he looked at the sombre face before him.

”Is your rejection of my story based at all,” asked Miss Fern, after a pause, ”on the--boldness of its subject?”

Mr. Gouger smiled again.

”We publish the works of Hall Caine and George Moore,” he said. ”I should not consider your story overbold, if there was nothing else against it. It is a wonder to me, and always will be, why such young girls as you choose _risque_ themes, but if the work is well done the public will pay for it.”

There was a slight blush on Miss Fern's face, partly at the insinuation and partly at the adverse criticism that had crept thoughtlessly into the sentence.

”For my part,” she explained, ”I wanted to write something that would attract attention--that would put my name prominently before the public and keep it there. The girls I read it to thought the scenes just lovely, though some said perhaps their mothers would not feel that way.

And I told them that the mothers of to-day were very old-fas.h.i.+oned, and that the public taste was changing rapidly. If the story is too bold, there are things I could cut out of it, but if you say that would make no difference, I would rather let them stand. I intend to try some other concern before I give up.”

Mr. Archie Weil had abandoned all pretence of looking out the window. He stood with his eyes fastened on the pretty girl, as she made these statements in such a matter-of-fact way. He wondered what the d.i.c.kens the story was about, and made up his mind that he would try to get possession of it.

”All the same,” responded Mr. Gouger, who had apparently forgotten his lunch in his growing interest in the conversation, ”I don't see where girls like you obtain such an intimate knowledge of things. You are not over twenty--excuse me, I am old enough to tell you this without offence. It is not you alone, but a hundred others who have made me ask myself this question. As soon as the modern girl gets a bottle of ink and a pen and begins to let her thoughts flow over paper, it transpires that she knows everything--more than everything, almost. Why, I was twenty-five before I was as wise as the heroine of sixteen, in this story of yours!”

Miss Fern reddened again, all the more because she had glanced up and encountered the bright eyes of Mr. Weil fixed upon her.