defence.

"So he is. I shall say in the next chapter that he was in the room
underneath all the time," said I, rather testily.

"Oh, well," said Harry, "of course if you think yours is the best, you'd
better stick it in. I'm out of it, if you're going in for poetry."

"You're not obliged to do any poetry," said I. "Thanks. I shouldn't
try unless I was sure of writing something that wasn't doggerel," said
Harry. This was hitting me on a tender point. "Look here," said I,
starting up, "do you mean to tell me I write doggerel?"

"I didn't say so."

"You meant it. I'd sooner write doggerel than stuff I'd be ashamed to
read in a `penny dreadful.' Call yourself a fair boy!"

Alas for our novel! We spent half an hour that evening in anything but
a literary competition.

Aunt Sarah remarked on Harry's black eye and my one-sided countenance at
breakfast next morning, and inquired artlessly if _English composition_
had caused them. We truly answered, "Yes."

Our friendship was quickly restored; but our poor novel, after that one
evening, has never lifted up its head again. We have sometimes vaguely
talked of finishing it, but we have been careful to avoid all discussion
of details, still less all reference to Chapter One. In fact, we have
come to the conclusion that it is better not to startle the world at too
early an age. If you do, you are expected to keep it up, and that
interferes with your enjoyment of life.

When our Novel does come out, well, we think Conan Doyle, Wells, and
those other fellows will sit up.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Preface.

OUR OWN PENNY-DREADFUL.

I am always coming across old manuscripts. I am not sure of the date of
the following, but I fancy it must have been written for a prize, which,
strange to say, it failed to secure. The only conditions were that the
story should have lots of "go" in it, that the incidents should be
natural, the tone elevating, and the characters carefully studied.

I ask any of my readers if this does not fulfil all these conditions? I
know when it was returned to me as "not quite the style we care about,"
I was extremely angry, and replied that I should very much like to see
what style they did care about, if not this. They had not the common
politeness to reply!

Another publisher to whom I submitted it actually wrote back that he was
not in the habit of publishing "penny dreadfuls." I was never so
insulted in all my life!

However, as