A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)

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T AND F

inks was a fine audience, attentive, delicately responsive, sympathetic, understanding, and above all-silent. He did not leak. Also, his applause was wise without being noisy. Another rare quality he possessed was that he was honest as the sun. To prevaricate, even by gesture, or by saying nothing, which is the commonest form of

n it. For his emotions invariably sought the safety valve of verse. It was a wiser safety valve for high spirits than horse-racing or betting on the football results, because he always stood to win, and never to lose. Occasionally he sold these bits of joy for half a guinea, his wife pasting the results neatly in a big press album from which he often read aloud on Sunday nights when the children were in bed. They were signed 'Montmorency Minks'; and bore evid

poisons man

hts of sel

jerkier movement altered the rhythm into something more lyrical, an

icipating with endless detail how he would break it to his wife. He felt

e a certain delicacy that was more becoming to a man of letters whom an adverse fate prevented from being a regular minor poet. There was that touch of melancholy in his fastidious appearance that suggested the atmosphere of frustrated dreams. O

e quality for an audience, since it invited confession and assured a gentle hearing. No harshness lay there. Herbert Minks might have been a fine, successful mother perhaps. The one drawback to the physiognomy was that the mild blue eyes were never quite united in their frank gaze. He squinted pleasantly,

rows, heavily marked. Minks knew his mind. If sometimes evasive rather than outspoken, he could on occasion be surprisingly firm. He saw life very clearly. He could certainly claim the goo

him for many years in every sort of circumstance. He had, by degrees, here and there, shown an interest in his life. He had chosen his private secretary well. With Herbert Minks at his side he might accomplish many things his heart was set upon. And while Minks

's got his leisure, with a fortune and-me!' And at the same moment Rogers, in his deep arm-chair before the fire, was saying to himself, 'I'm glad Minks has come to me; he's just the man I want for my big Scheme!' And then-'Pity he's such a lugu

ng of the blue door interrupted. 'To be secretary to such a man

ing his employer with that rare quality of being interested in his ideas and aims beyond the mere earning of a salary; seeing, too, in that employe

enough; got it, too, as strong as hunger or any other natural instinct. It's almost functional with him, if I may say so'-which meant 'if you can understand me'-'only, he's deliberately smothered it a

ew enthusiasm in his manner, and was puzz

, helping him draw off the paper cuffs that protected his shirt from ink

ue. It was so delightful to watch he

you've been as faithful as a horse.' She came cl

ayed himself already? Had she

he answered lightl

s. He would not let her put them on for him. It wa

prolong his pleasure, 'got it in the train coming home. Wait a moment, and I'll give you the rest. It's a beauty, with real passion in it, on

y that something had happened. He h

en?' She knew he never drank. 'I believe Mr. Rogers has raised your salary, or done one of those fine things you always say he's going to do. T

almost stern, 'Mr. Rogers will do the right thing always-when the right time comes. As a matter of fact'-here he reverted

naged to conceal her growing impatience so well, 'but there's not the money in th

make me a happier and a better man. But-I should say he would

it deliciously. He loved these little conversations with his wife. Never a shade of

nd that's what first attracted us to each other, as I have often mentioned to you. But now'-his bursting heart breaking through all control-'that he has sold his interests to a compa

pened!' cried Mrs. Mink

th forced calmness, though his vo

could help. His poems were full of scenes like this in which the men-strong, silent fellows-w

eated, full of d

ut Her

al factor in City life, mere secr

ertie,

r. Henry Rogers-private and

darli

nses extra, and long, regular holidays,' he conc

a moment

that went straight to his heart, and set big fires a

epic poem flashed with tumult through his bl

en he played with the children. It was mostly put on, of course, this false grand

was about to open various flood-gates when he stopped her with a look of

isurely spoken between great puffs of smoke. 'That's what I meant just now by saying that he l

the sentence that neither of them quite unders

e came over, dropped upon her knees beside his chair, and, putting both arms about his neck, she kissed his foolish sentences away with all the pride and te

ng lips. And, while he returned the kiss with equal tenderness and pleasure, one mild blue eye looked down upon her soft brown hair,

asleep, Herbert and Albinia Minks both lost in the world of happy dreams that sometimes visit h