"With pleasure," said the great publisher, graciously, and ushered her
into a sort of literary loose box or small enclosure in the remote
back-ground.

"I have ventured to bring you a manuscript," began Katherine, smiling
with all her might, with an abject desire to propitiate the arbiter of
her mother's fate.

"So I see," he returned, ruefully but politely.

"It is a beautiful story, and I thought it ought to be published by a
great house like yours," pursued Katherine.

"Thank you," he said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Pray is it your own?"

"Mine! Oh dear no! It is my mother's. She is not very strong, so _I_
brought it."

There was a slight faltering in her voice that suggested a good deal to
her hearer. "Then you are not Mrs. W. Liddell," glancing at the card,
"but Mrs. Liddell's daughter. Pray put down that heavy parcel. Three
volumes, I suppose?"

"Yes, three volumes, but they are not very long, and the story is most
interesting."

"No doubt. I hope it is not historical?"

"Oh no! quite modern."