him."

I felt a guilty pang--in truth, I had felt it forty times before that
tramp had traveled a block from my door--but still I resolved to make a
show of feeling slandered; so I said:

"This is a baseless impertinence. I said to the tramp--"

"There--wait. You were about to lie again. I know what you said to him.
You said the cook was gone down-town and there was nothing left from
breakfast. Two lies. You knew the cook was behind the door, and plenty
of provisions behind her."

This astonishing accuracy silenced me; and it filled me with wondering
speculations, too, as to how this cub could have got his information.
Of course he could have culled the conversation from the tramp, but by
what sort of magic had he contrived to find out about the concealed cook?
Now the dwarf spoke again:

"It was rather pitiful, rather small, in you to refuse to read that poor
young woman's manuscript the other day, and give her an opinion as to its
literary value; and she had come so far, too, and so hopefully. Now
wasn't it?"

I felt like a cur! And I had felt so every time the thing had recurred
to my mind, I may as well confess. I flushed hotly and said:

"Look here, have you nothing better to do than prowl around prying into
other people's business? Did that girl tell you that?"

"Never mind whether she did or not. The main thing is, you did that
contemptible thing. And you felt ashamed of it afterward. Aha! you feel
ashamed of it now!"

This was a sort of devilish glee. With fiery earnestness I responded:

"I told that girl, in the kindest, gentlest way, that I could not consent
to deliver judgment upon any one's manuscript, because an individual's
verdict was worthless. It might underrate a work of high merit and lose
it to the world, or it might overrate a trashy production and so open the
way for its infliction upon the world: I said that the great public was
the only tribunal competent to sit in judgment upon a literary effort,
and therefore it must be best to lay it before that tribunal in the
outset, since in the end it must stand or fall by that mighty court's
decision anyway."

"Yes, you said all that. So you did, you juggling, small-souled
shuffler! And yet when the happy hopefulness faded out of that poor
girl's face, when you saw her furtively slip beneath her shawl the scroll
she had so patiently and honestly scribbled at--so ashamed of her darling
now, so proud of it before--when you saw