me, and this, I would point out, was a reflection on my appearance or my manner.
No, what she meant was that I looked so young, and—and that would take him aback, for had I not written as an aged man?
"But he knows my age, mother."
"I'm glad of that, but maybe he wouldna like you when he saw you."
"Oh, it is my manner, then!"
"I dinna say that, but——"
Here my sister would break in: "The short and the long of it is just this, she thinks nobody has such manners as herself. Can you deny it, you vain woman?"
My mother would deny it vigorously.
"You stand there," my sister would say with affected scorn, "and tell me you don't think you could get the better of that man quicker than any of us?"
"Sal, I'm thinking I could manage him," says my mother, with a chuckle.
"How would you set about it?"
Then my mother would begin to laugh. "I would find out first if he had a family, and then I would say they were the finest family in London."
"Yes, that is just what you would do, you cunning woman! But if he has no family?"
"I would say what great men editors are!"
"He would see through you."
"Not he!"
