There was no particular evidence in hand,
he said, that the children liked stories of that kind particularly,
adding that the first was only an experiment that it was not necessary
to repeat, and so on; polite, but unmistakably valedictory.
"No evidence in hand that they are liked, eh? Well, how on earth, I
wonder," Partington said, angrily, to himself, "do they ever find
evidence that things are liked? Do they go about asking subscribers, or
what?"
And then he picked up the issue of _Nursery Days_ that had started him
along on his way to immortality, to console himself, at all events, with
the sight of his published story. In turning over the leaves of the
periodical his eye fell upon a page across the top of which ran a highly
ornate cut which indicated that there was printed the "Post-office
Department of _Nursery Days_," on perusing which Partington found a
number of communications and editorial responses like these:
I.
"DEAR POSTMASTER,--I have been taking _Nursery
Days_ since Christmas, so I thought I would
write you a letter. My birthday came a week
ago Thursday. I received a watch and chain,
a glove-buttoner, a penknife, and a set of ivory
jackstraws. We have a cat at home whose
name is Rumpelstiltzken. He is very sleepy,
and sleeps all day. He always picks out the
most comfortable chair, and then feels very
much injured if we turn him out. I like Bolivar
Wiggins's story in your last paper very
much.
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