In the meantime the great penny public were slowly growing restive,
and at last the two little round men called on Pym to complain that he
was falling off; and Pym turned them out of doors, and then sat down
heroically to do what he had not done for two decades--to read his
latest work.
"Elspeth, go upstairs to your room," whispered Tommy, and then he
folded his arms proudly. He should have been in a tremble, but
latterly he had often felt that he must burst if he did not soon read
some of his bits to Pym, more especially the passages about the
hereafter; also the opening of Chapter Seventeen.
At first Pym's only comment was, "It is the same old drivel as before;
what more can they want?"
But presently he looked up, puzzled. "Is this chapter yours or mine?"
he demanded.
"It is about half and half," said Tommy.
"Is mine the first half? Where does yours begin?" "That is not
exactly what I mean," explained Tommy, in a glow, but backing a
little; "you wrote that chapter first, and then I--I--"
"You rewrote it!" roared Pym. "You dared to meddle with--" He was
speechless with fury.
"I tried to keep my hand off," Tommy said, with dignity, "but the
thing had to be done, and they are human now.
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