ne of the story must be considered. The
necessity is less stringent or nonexistent in writing the novel, with
its permissible variety of texture, than in writing the short story of
unity of effect. If the people of a story are super-normal, their lips
must not drop banalities. That is a matter of character. But if the
single effect sought to be produced by a story is of horror, for
instance, its people cannot be permitted to make remarks that will
hinder the attainment of the effect, which is a matter of preserving the
general tone of the story. The speech of the characters must be in
keeping with them, in keeping with the significant situations, and in
keeping with the story as a whole.

There is one point about the management of dialogue which should be the
less neglected because it is purely mechanical and very easy. A page of
dialogue should not present to a reader a monotonous succession of "he
saids" and "she saids," simply because the reader will feel the
repetition and some of the illusion of the story be lost. The verbs
characterizing utterance are infinite in number; moreover, it is
frequently possible to set down nothing but the words of the speaking
character. Thus Henry Sydnor Harrison, in "V. V.'s Eyes.":

"'Did she hurt herself?' said Carlisle, third-personally, to the elder
girl, who had suspended her game to stare wide-eyed. 'What on earth is
the matter?'

"The reply was tragically simple:

"'A lady stepped on her Junebug.'"

"Sure enough, full on the vestibule floor lay the murdered slum-bug, who
had too hardily ventured to cross a wealthy benevolent's path. The
string was yet tied to the now futile hind-leg. Carlisle, lingering,
repressed her desire to laugh.

"'Oh!... Well, don't you think you could catch her a new one, perhaps?'

"'Bopper he mout ketch her a new one mebbe tomorrow, mom ... Hiesh,
Rebecca!'

"Moved by some impulse in her own bouyant mood, Carlisle touched the
littlest girl on the shoulder with a well-gloved finger.

"'Here--Rebecca, poor child!... You can buy yourself something better
than Junebugs.'

"The proprietor of the deceased bug, having raised her damp dark face,
ceased crying instantly. Over the astounding windfall the chubby
fingers closed with a gesture suggesting generations of acquisitiveness.

"'Is it hers to keep?' spoke her aged sister, in a scared voice. 'That
there's a dollar, mum.'

"'Hers to keep ...' replied the goddess, smiling."

Dialogue so ma