Frances soon began to write little stories that amused her sisters very much, but were not shown to her father, who knew nothing of their existence. Dr. Burney had an intimate friend named Samuel Crisp, a well-educated, literary man, whose advice was of the utmost benefit to Frances, whom he always called his Fannikin, while she in return called him her dear Daddy. Crisp enjoyed Dr. Burney's concerts; but, when he grew old and gouty, and could no longer attend them, Frances would write him a long account of each one, and of the gay people who attended. These letters were answered, and contained so much instruction about what to read and how to write, that they went far towards the development of "Fannikin's" intellect. {179}The result was that Frances Burney wrote a novel which took the literary world by surprise. Her father wept over it for joy. "Daddy" Crisp shook his fist at Fannikin in affectionate anger for not having confided in him, and everybody began to guess what author could have written "Evelina." When they found out that a reserved, inexperienced young woman had produced the best work of fiction that had appeared in many a day, praises were increased. Frances Burney suddenly found herself famous. Then she wrote another novel, which she called "Cecilia." The publishers paid her two thousand pounds for it, and there never was a book more eagerly snatched from the counters of the booksellers. Frances Burney was now thirty years old; she had literary fame, position and money. What, then, could have induced her to take the steps to which we have alluded,--that of entering the queen's service? It is certainly inexplicable; but this is how it happened:-- Mrs. Delany, a lady of noble birth, having been left a widow, was kindly cared for by King George and Queen Charlotte, who fitted up a house for her in Windsor Park, and settled on her an annuity of three hundred pounds a year. Their majesties frequently visited the old lady, and the young princes and princesses often honored her by their company to tea.