"No," replied Leopold, "I'm flush to-day; keep it till some time when
I'm strapped. Last, and most important of all, here are the proofs of
the story that is to appear in our monthly. Now, my advice to you is,
Quincy, seek the fair author at once, correct these proofs and have them
back to me within three days, or they'll go over and she'll be charged
for keeping the type standing, besides having her pay hung up for
another week."
"She won't mind that," said Quincy, with a laugh. "She's an heiress now,
with real and personal property valued at fifty thousand dollars. But
what am I to do?" asked he seriously. "I could read the manuscript, but
we have no one at Eastborough who knows how to make those pothooks and
scratches that you call 'corrections.'"
"Well, you two young aspirants for literary fame are in a box, are'nt
you? I was thinking about that fifty thousand. Perhaps I'd better go
home with you and get acquainted with the author," said Leopold with a
laugh.
"Well," returned Quincy, "it would be very kind of you in our present
emergency, but, strange as it may seem, I came to see you this afternoon
about securing a literary assistant for Miss Pettengill.
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