"I should think you were," said Harding, laughing; "for my presence here means a good deal to you,--bed, and rest, and country, eh? Well, how have you been?--not knocked up? You've done capitally, my boy! I've watched you carefully, and am more than content." (For Mr. Harding was the editor of the _Statesman_, and Churchill, one of his principal contributors, had been taking his place while he made holiday.) "That's a relief," said Churchill. "I've been rather nervous about it; but I thought that Tooby and I between us had managed to push the ship along somehow. Tooby's a capital fellow!" "Yes, yes," said Mr. Harding, seating himself; "Tooby is a capital fellow, and there's not a better 'sub' in London. But Tooby couldn't have written that article on the Castle-Hedingham dinner, or shown up the _Teaser's_ blunders in classical quotation, Master Frank. _Palman qui meruit_. Who did the Bishops and the Crystal Palace?" "Oh, Slummer wrote those. Weren't they good?" "Very smart; very smart indeed. A thought too strong of Billingsgate, though. That young man is a very hard hitter, but wants training. Where's Hawker?" "Just gone. He's been very kind and very useful, so have Williams and Burke, and all. And you--how have you enjoyed yourself?" "Never so much in my life. I've read nothing but the paper. I've done nothing but lie upon the beach and play with the children." "And the children--are they all right? and Mrs. Harding?" "Splendid! I never saw the wife look so well for the last six years. She sent all kind remembrances to you, and the usual inquiry." "What! if I was going to be married? No, no; you must take back my usual answer. She must find me a wife, and it must be one after her own pattern." "Seriously, Frank Churchill, it's time you began to look after a wife. In our profession, especially, it's the greatest blessing to have some one to care for and to be petted by in the intervals of business-strife. There used to be a notion that a literary man required to be perpetually 'seeing life,' which meant 'getting drunk, and never going home;' but that's exploded, and I believe that our best character-painters owe half their powers of delineation to their wives' suggestions. Women,--by Jove, sir!--women read character wonderfully." "Mrs. Harding has made a bad shot at mine, old friend," said Churchill, laughing, "if she thinks that I am in any way desirous to be married. No, no! So far as the seeing life is concerned, I began early, and all that has been over long since. But I've got rather a queer temper of my own. I'm not the most tolerant man in the world; and I've had my own way so long, that any little missy fal-lals and pettishness would jar upon me horribly. Besides, I've not got money enough to marry upon. I like my comforts, and to be able to buy occasional books and pictures, and to keep my horse, and my club, and--" "Well, but a fellow like you might pick up a woman with money!" said Harding.