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"And what do you think is the outlook for the winter trade, Mr. Brandreth? "
" Never better. I think we're going to have a good trade. We've got a larger list than we've had for a great many years. The fact is," said Mr. Brandreth, and he gave a glance at Ray, as if he felt the trust the youthful gravity of his face inspired in most people — " the fact is, Chapley & Co. have been dropping too much out of sight, as publishers; and I've felt, ever since I've been in the firm, that we ought to give the public a sharp reminder that we're not merely booksellers and jobbers. I want the house to take its old place again. I don't mean it's ever really lost caste, or that its imprint doesn't stand for as much as it did twenty years ago. I'll just show you our list if you can wait a moment." Mr. Brandreth closed a pair of wooden mandibles lying on his desk; an electric bell sounded in the distance, and a boy appeared. " You go and ask Miss Hughes if she's got that list of announcements ready yet." The boy went, and Mr. Brandreth took up one of the cards of the firm. " If you would like to visit some of the other houses, Mr. Ray, I'll give you our card," and he wrote on the card, "Introducing Mr. Ray, of the Midland Echo, P. Brandreth," and handed it to him. " Not Peter, but Percy," he said, with a friendly smile for his own pleasantry. " But for business purposes it's better to let them suppose it's Peter."
Ray laughed, and said he imagined so. He said he had always felt it a disadvantage to have been named Shelley; but he could not write himself P. B. S. Ray, and he usually signed simply S. Ray.
" Why, then, we really have the same first name," said Mr. Brandreth. "It's rather an uncommon name, too. I'm very glad to share it with you, Mr. Ray." It seemed to add another tie to those that already bound them in the sympathy of youth, and the publisher said, " I wish I could ask you up to my house; but just now, you know, it's really a nursery."
" You are very kind," said Ray. " I couldn't think of intruding on you, of course."
Their exchange of civilities was checked by the return of the boy, who said Miss Hughes would have the list ready in a few minutes.
" Well, just ask her to bring it here, will you? " said Mr. Brandreth. " I want to speak to her about some of these letters."
" I'm taking a great deal of your time, Mr. Brandreth," Ray said.
" Not at all, not at all. I'm making a kind of holiday week of it, anyway. I'm a good deal excited," and Mr. Brandreth smiled so benevolently that Ray could not help taking advantage of him.
The purpose possessed him almost before he was aware of its activity; he thought he had quelled it, but now he heard himself saying in a stiff unnatural voice, "I have a novel of my own, Mr. Brandreth, that I should like to submit to you."
IX.
" Oh, indeed! " said Mr. Brandreth, with a change in his voice, too, which Ray might well have interpreted as a tone of disappointment and injury. " Just at present, Mr. Ray, trade is rather quiet, you know."
" Yes, I know," said Ray, though he thought he had been told the contrary. He felt very mean and guilty; the blood went to his head, and his face burned,
" Our list for the fall trade is full, as I was saying, and we couldn't really touch anything till next spring."
" Oh, I didn't suppose it would be in time for the fall trade," said Ray, and in the sudden loss of the easy terms which he had been on with the publisher, he could not urge anything further.
Mr. Brandreth must have felt their estrangement too, for he said, apologetically: " Of course it's our business to examine manuscripts for publication, and I hope it's going to be our business to publish more and more of them, but an American novel by an unknown author, as long as we have the competition of these pirated English novels — If we can only get the copyright bill through, we shall be all right."
Ray said nothing aloud, for he was busy reproaching himself under his breath for abusing Mr. Brandreth's hospitality.
" What is the — character of your novel? " asked Mr. Brandreth, to break the painful silence, apparently, rather than to inform himself.
" The usual character," Ray answered, with a listlessness which perhaps passed for careless confidence with the young publisher, and piqued his interest. " It's a love-story."
" Of course. Does it end well? A great deal depends upon the ending with the public, you know."
" I suppose it ends badly. It ends as badly as it can," said the author, feeling that he had taken the bit in his teeth. " It's unrelieved tragedy."
" That isn't so bad, sometimes," said Mr. Brandreth. " That is, if the tragedy is intense enough. Sometimes a thing of that kind takes with the public, if the love part is good and strong. Have you the manuscript here in New York with you? "
" I have it here in my lap with me," said Ray, with a desperate laugh.
Mr. Brandreth cast his eye over the package. " What do you call it? So much depends upon a title with the public."
" I had thought of several titles: the hero's name for one; the heroine's for another. Then I didn't know but A Modern Romeo would do. It's very much on the lines of the play."
" Indeed! " said Mr. Brandreth, with a sudden interest that flattered Ray with fresh hopes. " That's very curious. I once took part in an amateur performance of Romeo myself. We gave it in the open air. The effect was very novel."
" I should think it might be," said Ray, He hastened to add, " My story deals, of course, with American life, and the scene is laid in the little village where I grew up,"
" Our play," said Mr. Brandreth, " was in a little summer place in Massachusetts. One of the ladies gave us her tennis-ground, and we made our exits and our entrances through the surrounding shrubbery. You've no idea how beautiful the mediaeval dresses looked in the electric light. It was at night."
" It must have been beautiful," Ray hastily admitted. " My Juliet is the daughter of the village doctor, and my Romeo is a young lawyer, who half kills a cousin of hers for trying to interfere with them."
" That's good," said Mr. Brandreth. " I took the part of Romeo myself, and Mrs. Brandreth — she was Miss Chapley, then — was cast for Juliet; but another girl who had refused the part suddenly changed her mind and claimed it, and we had the greatest time to keep the whole affair from going to pieces. I beg your pardon; I interrupted you."
"Not at all," said Ray. "It must have been rather difficult. In my story there has been a feud between the families of the lovers about a land boundary; and both families try to break off the engagement."
"That's very odd," said Mr. Brandreth. "The play nearly broke off my acquaintance with Mrs. Brandreth, Of course she was vexed — as anybody would be — at having to give up the part at the eleventh hour, when she'd taken so much trouble with it; but when she saw my suffering with the other girl, who didn't know half her lines, and walked through it all like a mechanical doll, she forgave me. Romeo is my favorite play. Did you ever see Julia Marlowe in it?"
" No."
"Then you never saw Juliet! I used to think Margaret Mather was about the loveliest Juliet, and in fact she has a great deal of passion " —
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