doubt, the authoress seems always so
sure of her facts) they had a way of going on in those times which is
really surprising. Even the grand historical figures were free and
easy, such as King Edward, of whom we have perhaps the most human
picture ever penned, as he appears at a levee "rather sumshiously," in
a "small [Pg vii] but costly crown," and afterwards slips away to tuck
into ices. It would seem in particular that we are oddly wrong in our
idea of the young Victorian lady as a person more shy and shrinking than
the girl of to-day. The Ethel of this story is a fascinating creature
who would have a good time wherever there were a few males, but no
longer could she voyage through life quite so jollily without
attracting the attention of the censorious. Chaperon seems to be one
of the very few good words of which our authoress had never heard.

The lady she had grown into, the "owner of the copyright" already
referred to, gives me a few particulars of this child she used to be,
and is evidently a little scared by her. We should probably all be a
little scared (though proud) if that portrait was dumped down in front
of us as ours, and we were asked to explain why we once thought so
much of ourselves as that.

Except for the smirk on her face, all I can learn of her now is that
she was one of [Pg viii] a small family who lived in the country, invented
their own games, dodged the governess and let the rest of the world go
hang. She read everything that came her way, including, as the context
amply proves, the grown-up novels of the period. "I adored writing and
used to pray for bad weather, so that I need not go out but could stay
in and write." Her mother used to have early tea in bed; sometimes
visitors came to the house, when there was talk of events in high
society: there was mention of places called Hampton Court, the Gaiety
Theatre and the "Crystale" Palace. This is almost all that is now
remembered, but it was enough for the blazing child. She sucked her
thumb for a moment (this is guesswork), and sat down to her amazing
tale.

"Her mother used to have early tea in bed." Many authors must have had
a similar experience, but they all missed the possibilities of it
until this young woman came along. It thrilled her; and tea in [Pg ix]
bed at last takes its proper place in fiction. "Mr Salteena woke
up rarther early next day and was delighted to find Horace the footman
entering with a cup of tea. Oh thank you my