an editor at times owing to the dearth of good tales of this kind.
Nirmala said—"I have a friend who writes short stories. I have one by me now; will you look at it?"
Had I anticipated this disaster, I would not have introduced the topic of the short story at all. In the drudgery of editorial duties it fell to my lot to read many stories by novices. But I had come now to the hills for a month's holiday. However, there was no escape, so I said—"I will look at whatever you give me."
"You must give me your real opinion of it."
"I will do so."
"You must not keep anything back, because the writer is my friend."
"If you are really anxious to hear it, I will give you my genuine opinion."
Nirmala immediately went to fetch the story. A few minutes later she placed in my hands a bundle of beautifully executed manuscript on ruled foolscap, with half margins, fastened at the corner with crimson silk. At first sight I exclaimed—"A new writer?"
"Yes; but how do you know?"
"New writers nearly always take great pains in preparing their manuscript. The handwriting of authors of established reputation is usually illegible."
