But my friend was gone upstairs to his studio and my subtle sarcasm was lost. We look at this question of public performances from different angles. When we heard of a neighbour's son earning ten dollars every Saturday by going up in a balloon and descending in a parachute (very often alighting upon some embarrassingly private roof) Mac thought it very creditable of him and mighty poor pay. I contended that it was a good deal more than the job was worth, because it was worth exactly nothing. It was not worth doing. This, of course, laid me open on the flank. My friend suggested that this might be said of a good deal of literary work, and I admitted with a sigh that he was right. "There you are," said he, and we both laughed. "Well," I said, at lunch, "I grant your premises. Why should this chap wish to fix his personality on the public mind?" "Can't you see? To put his value up, of course." "Doing ... why, of course, he's doing it for money. Who ever does anything in this infernal world except for money?" "But since he failed--as he did, you remember--he hasn't any value to speak of." Mac turned in despair to his wife. "Did you ever see such a chap in your life? You'd think, to hear him, he'd never heard of appropriations for publicity campaigns, or advertising schemes. Things do themselves in his world--you don't even have to drop a nickel in the slot!" Bill regarded me with attention. "He's got something up his sleeve," she remarked, sagely. "If he keeps us guessing we'll send him to New York to have his Christmas dinner by himself." "I'm not going to keep you guessing," I said, "but I haven't been able to get a word in edgeway yet. Leaving the great cosmic question of publicity, of which I get rather tired at times in spite of its lucrative side, I want to call your attention to something--I was going to say under our noses--something close by." They gazed at me in doubt and then looked at each other. Mac made allusion, tapping his forehead the while, to the strain of Christmas work. And they shook their heads. "Well, go on," humoured Bill, rising to bring in the coffee. "What's this wonderful something you've discovered?" "I have reason to believe," I said, without looking up from my plate, "that Mrs. Carville had a visitor last night." "No!" they ejaculated in unison. I nodded.