What most amazed Barbara was the calm manner in which all her sallies, however bitter or savage, were received by her husband's intimates, and laughed away or glossed over by Frank himself. At first her notion was to put down these persons by a calm haughty superiority or a studied reticence, which should in itself have the effect of showing her opinion of them: but neither demeanour had the smallest effect on those whom it was intended to reprove. The first time she ever perceived that any one was the least degree inclined to oppose her sway or dispute her authority, was one Saturday night, when Churchill's study was filled with several of his old friends, smoking and chatting. Barbara was there too, with her embroidery. She could stand tobacco-smoke perfectly; it did not give her a headache, or even worse than that, redden her eyelids and make her wink; and there was a small amount of "fastness" in it which pleased her. Moreover her presence prevented the gathering in the _tabagie_ from quite sinking into a bachelor revel, the which Barbara, as a young married woman, held in the deepest abomination. The conversation was in full swing about books, authors, and publishers. "Chester's going to bring out a volume of poems," said Mr. Bloss, an amiable young man with fluffy hair, who always had a good word for every one. "Says he should have published them before, but he's so many irons in the fire." "Better put his poems where his irons are," laughed Mr. Dunster, a merry little old gentleman with light-blue eyes, who could take the skin off your back and plant daggers in your heart, smiling all the time in the pleasantest manner. "Chester's next door to an idiot; lives close by you, by the way, Bloss, doesn't he?" All the men laughed; and even Barbara, after a look of amazement, could not help smiling. "He's dreadfully frightened of the critics," said another man sitting by. "You must notice him in the _Statesman_ yourself, Churchill, eh?" "Or I'll speak to Harding. Poor Chester! he mustn't be allowed to come to grief. What are his verses like? has any one seen them?" "I have," said Mr. Bloss. "They're really--they're--well--they're not so very bad, you know." "What a burst of candour!" said Mr. Dunster. "Bloss, you are a young reviewer, and I must caution you against such excessively strong statements." "Chester's most afraid of the _Scourge_," said the man who had spoken before; "he thinks it will flay him." "He should mollify them by saying that his verses were written at 'an early age,'" laughed Churchill. "That wouldn't do for the _Scourge_; they would say the verses were too bad even to have been written by a child in arms," said Mr. Dunster.