down in a corner and began to eat bread and butter. Every time he
prepared to slip a piece into his pocket, he found his mother's or
Mrs. de Vere Carter's eye fixed upon him and hastily began to eat it
himself. He sat, miserable and hot, seeing only the heroic figure
starving in the next room, and planned a raid on the larder as soon as
he could reasonably depart. Every now and then he scowled across at
Mrs. de Vere Carter and made a movement with his hands as though
pulling a cap over his eyes. He invested even his eating with an air
of dark mystery.

Then Robert, his elder brother, came in, followed by a thin, pale man
with eye-glasses and long hair.

"This is Mr. Lewes, mother," said Robert with an air of pride and
triumph. "He's editor of _Fiddle Strings_."

There was an immediate stir and sensation. Robert had often talked of
his famous friend. In fact Robert's family was weary of the sound of
his name, but this was the first time Robert had induced him to leave
the haunts of his genius to visit the Brown household.

Mr. Lewes bowed with a set, stern, self-conscious expression, as
though to convey to all that his celebrity was more of a weight than a
pleasure to him. Mrs. de Vere Carter bridled and fluttered, for
_Fiddle Strings_ had a society column and a page of scrappy "News of
the Town," and Mrs. de Vere Carter's greatest ambition was to see her
name in print.

Mr. Lewes sat back in his chair, took his tea-cup as though it were a
fresh addition to his responsibilities, and began to talk. He talked