'How nice it must be to have a duty to perform every day; to have always an occupation to which you can turn with pleasure.' 'I don't know that I look upon my ink-bottle as an eternal haven of bliss. Still, I would sooner contribute articles to daily and weekly papers than sit in the Kildare Street Club, drinking glasses of sherry. Having nothing to do must be a terrible occupation, and one difficult to fulfil with dignity and honour. But,' he added, as if a sudden thought had struck him, 'you must have a great deal of time on your hands; why don't you write a novel?' 'Everybody can't write novels.' 'Oh yes, they can.' 'Is that the reason why you advise me to write one? 'Not exactly. Did you ever try to write a story?' 'No, not since I was at school. I used to write stories there, and read them to the girls, and . . .' 'And what?' 'Oh, nothing; it seems so absurd of me to talk to you about such things; you will only laugh at me just as you did at Mr. Adair.' 'No, I assure you, I am very loyal to my friends.' 'Friends!' 'I should have thought that friendship was a question of sympathy, and not one of time: but I will withdraw the word.' 'Oh, no, I didn't mean that--I am sure I am very glad . . .' 'Very well, then, we will be friends; and now tell me what you were going to say.' 'I have forgotten--what was I saying?' 'You were telling me about something you had written at school.' 'Oh, yes, I remember. I did a little play for the girls to act just before we left.' 'What was it about--what was it called?' 'It was not original--it was an adaptation of Tennyson's ballad of King Cophetua. You know Miss Gould--she played the King; and Miss Scully, she played the beggar-maid. But, of course, the whole thing was very childish.' At this moment a figure in knee-breeches and flesh-coloured stockings was seen waving a wand at the far end of the room. He was the usher clearing the way for the viceregal procession.