"Yes, I see. But wasn't there any kind soul to tell him that he was
throwing his time away?"

"It appears not."

"And even the kind soul from Boston, who visited him," suggested
Mrs. Sewell. "Go on, David."

"Visited him in spite of his wife's omniscience,--even the kind soul
from Boston paltered with this plain duty. Even he, to spare himself
the pain of hurting the boy's feelings, tried to find some of the
lines better than others, and left him with the impression that he
had praised them."

"Well, that was pretty bad," said Miss Vane. "You had to tell him
to-day, I suppose, that there was no hope for him?"

"Yes, I had to tell him at last, after letting him waste his time
and money in writing more stuff and coming to Boston with it. I've
put him to needless shame, and I've inflicted suffering upon him
that I can't lighten in the least by sharing."

"No, that's the most discouraging thing about pitying people. It
does them no manner of good," said Miss Vane, "and just hurts you.
Don't you think that in an advanced civilisation we shall cease to
feel compassion? Why don't you preach against common pity, as you
did against common politeness?"

"Well, it isn't quite such a crying sin yet. But really, really,"
exclaimed Sewell, "the world seems so put together that I believe we