inking of that reviewer, Elfie?'

'Not of him personally; but I am thinking of his opinion. Really, on
looking into the volume after this long time has elapsed, he seems to
have estimated one part of it fairly enough.'

'No, no; I wouldn't show the white feather now! Fancy that of all people
in the world the writer herself should go over to the enemy. How shall
Monmouth's men fight when Monmouth runs away?'

'I don't do that. But I think he is right in some of his arguments,
though wrong in others. And because he has some claim to my respect I
regret all the more that he should think so mistakenly of my motives in
one or two instances. It is more vexing to be misunderstood than to
be misrepresented; and he misunderstands me. I cannot be easy whilst
a person goes to rest night after night attributing to me intentions I
never had.'

'He doesn't know your name, or anything about you. And he has doubtless
forgotten there is such a book in existence by this time.'

'I myself should certainly like him to be put right upon one or two
matters,' said the vicar, who had hitherto been silent. 'You see,
critics go on writing, and are never corrected or argued with, and
therefore are never improved.'

'Papa,' said Elfride brightening, 'write to him!'

'I would as soon write to him as look at him, for the matter of that,'
said Mr. Swancourt.

'Do! And say, the young person who wrote the book did not adopt a
masculine pseudonym in vanity or conceit, but because she was afraid it
would be thought presumptuous to publish her name, and that she did not
mean the story for such as he, but as a sweetener of history for young
people, who might thereby acquire a taste for what went on in their own
country hundreds of years ago, and be tempted to dive deeper into the
subject. Oh, there is so much to explain; I wish I might write myself!'

'Now, Elfie, I'll tell you what we will do,' answered Mr. Swancourt,
tickled with a sort of bucolic humour at the idea of criticizing the
critic. 'You shall write a clear account of what he is wrong in, and I
will copy it and send it as mine.'

'Yes, now, directly!' said Elfride, jumping up. 'When will you send it,
papa?'

'Oh, in a day or two, I suppose,' he returned. Then the vicar paused and
slightly yawned, and in the manner of elderly people began to cool from
his ardour for the undertaking now that it came to the point. 'But,
really, it is hardly worth while,' he said.

'O papa!' said Elf