“Oh, it’s dull, heavy stuff. I can’t do what Millie does, you see. It’s not a novel.” We parted at the door of the publisher who had been ready to oblige Mrs Clinton, and would, I thought, soon regret his complaisance; and I went on to my office, dismissing the Prince Consort and his “little thing” from my mind. I went to the Clintons’ about three months’ later, in order to bid them farewell before starting for a holiday on the Continent. They were, for a wonder, without other visitors, and when we had talked over Mrs Clinton’s last production, she stretched out her hand and pointed to the table. “And there,” she said, with a little laugh, “is Thompson’s” (the Prince Consort’s Christian name is Thompson) “_magnum opus_. Vincents’ have just sent him his advance copies.” The Prince Consort laughed nervously as I rose and walked to the table. “Never mind, papa,” I heard Muriel say encouragingly. “You know Mr George Vincent says it’s very good.” “Oh, he thought that would please your mother,” protested the Prince Consort. I examined the two large thick volumes that lay on the table. I glanced at the title page: and I felt sorry for the poor Prince Consort. It must have been a terrible “grind” to write such a book--almost as bad as reading it. But I said something civil about the importance and interest of the subject. “If you really don’t mind looking at it,” said the Prince Consort, “I should like awfully to send you a copy.” “Oh yes! You must read it,” said Mrs Clinton. “Why, _I’m_ going to read--well, some of it! I’ve promised!” “So am I,” said little Muriel, while the Prince Consort rubbed his hands together with a sort of pride which was, on its other side, the profoundest humility. He was wondering, I think, that he should have been able to produce any book at all--even the worst of books--and admiring a talent which he had not considered himself to possess. “I’m going to worry everybody who comes here to buy it--or to order it at Mudie’s, anyhow,” pursued Mrs Clinton. “What’s written in this house must be read.” “I hope Vincents’ won’t lose a lot over it,” said the Prince Consort, shaking his head. “Oh well, they’ve made a good deal out of me before now,” laughed his wife lightly.