'
'Oh yes, I know. There are charming things about the Upper Ten
Thousand. They tell all that is going on, but I hardly ever can see
one. Mary won't take in anything about Church Bells, and we get the
Guardian when it is a week old, and my brother James has done with it.'
'Dear me! How dreadful!' said Dolores, who had been used to see all
manner of papers come in as regularly as hot rolls. 'Why, you never
can know anything! We didn't take in society papers, because father
does not care for gossip or grandees. He has other pursuits. I can
show you some of dear mother's articles. There's one called
'Unconscious Volition,' and another on the 'Progress of Species.' I'll
bring them down next time I come.'
'Have you read them?'
'No; they are too difficult. Mother was so very clever, you know.'
'She must have been,' said Constance, with a sigh; 'but how did she get
them published?'
'Sent them to the editor, of course,' said Dolores. 'They all knew
her, and were glad to get anything that she wrote.'
'Ah! that is what it is to have an introduction,' sighed Constance.
'What! have you written anything?' cried Dolores.
'Only a few little trifles,' said Constance, modestly. 'It is a great
secret, you know, a dead secret.'
'Oh! I'll keep it. I told you my secret, you know, so you might tell
me yours.'
And so to Dolores were confided sundry verses and tales on which
Constance had been wont to spend a good deal of her time in that pretty
sitting-room.
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