It can never be a
six-best-seller, neither will it live as a classic. You
will never see it advertised on the book review page of
the Saturday papers, nor will the man across the aisle in
the street car be so absorbed in its contents that he will
be taken past his corner."
Von Gerhard looked troubled. "But the literary
value? Does that not enter--"
"I don't aim to contribute to the literary uplift,"
I assured him. "All my life I have cherished two
ambitions. One of them is to write a successful book,
and the other to learn to whistle through my teeth--this
way, you know, as the gallery gods do it. I am almost
despairing of the whistle, but I still have hopes of the
book."
Whereupon Von Gerhard, after a moment's stiff
surprise, gave vent to one of his heartwarming roars.
"Thanks," said I. "Now tell me the important news."
His face grew serious in an instant. "Not yet, Dawn.
Later. Let us hear more about the book. Not so
flippant, however, small one. The time is past when you
can deceive me with your nonsense."
"Surely you would not have me take myself seriously!
That's another debt I owe my Irish forefathers. They
could laugh--bless 'em!--in the very teeth of a potato
crop failure.
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