'
'Yes, now, directly!' said Elfride, jumping up. 'When will you
send it, papa? '
'Oh, in a day or two, I suppose,' he returned. Then the vicar
paused and slightly yawned, and in the manner of elderly people
began to cool from his ardour for the undertaking now that it came
to the point. 'But, really, it is hardly worth while,' he said.
'O papa!' said Elfride, with much disappointment. 'You said you
would, and now you won't. That is not fair!'
'But how can we send it if we don't know whom to send it to?'
'If you really want to send such a thing it can easily be done,'
said Mrs. Swancourt, coming to her step-daughter's rescue. 'An
envelope addressed, "To the Critic of THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE,
care of the Editor of the PRESENT," would find him.'
'Yes, I suppose it would.'
'Why not write your answer yourself, Elfride?' Mrs. Swancourt
inquired.
'I might,' she said hesitatingly; 'and send it anonymously: that
would be treating him as he has treated me.'
'No use in the world!'
'But I don't like to let him know my exact name. Suppose I put my
initials only? The less you are known the more you are thought
of.'
'Yes; you might do that.'
Elfride set to work there and then. Her one desire for the last
fortnight seemed likely to be realized. As happens with sensitive
and secluded minds, a continual dwelling upon the subject had
magnified to colossal proportions the space she assumed herself to
occupy or to have occupied in the occult critic's mind.
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