I thought it wasn't any good; but in a minute the grinning boy came back, and he was quite respectful, and said--'The Editor says, please will you step up ?' We stepped up.

There were a lot of stairs and passages, and a queer sort of humming, hammering sound and a very funny smell.

The boy was now very polite, and said it was the ink we smelt, and the noise was the printing machines.
After going through a lot of cold passages we came to a door; the boy opened it, and let us go in.

There was a large room, with a big, soft, blue-and-red carpet, and a roaring fire, though it was only October; and a large table with drawers, and littered with papers, just like the one in Father's study.

A gentleman was sitting at one side of the table; he had a light moustache and light eyes, and he looked very young to be an editor--not nearly so old as Father.