If she were
a man they'd give her twenty, and think themselves lucky. I'll run over
and see if she is at home. At what time could she go down with you
to-morrow?" he asked.
"I'll come after her at nine o'clock. Tell her Miss Pettengill will give
her eight dollars a week, with board and lodging free."
"All right," cried Leopold, "that's business. While I'm gone just see
how pretty those stories look in cold type. I've been all through them
myself just for practice."
Leopold dashed out of the room and Quincy took up the proofs of the
story, Was It Signed? He became so absorbed in its perusal that Leopold
pulled it out of his hand in order to attract his attention.
"It's all right," he said. "She's delighted at the idea of going. She
thinks the change will do her good. She can't build up very fast in a
little back room, up three flights."
"What's her name?" asked Quincy.
"Oh! I forgot," replied Leopold. "I'll write her name and address down
for you. There it is," said he, as he passed it to Quincy. "Her first
name is Rosa, and that's all right. She's of French-Canadian descent,
and her last name is one of those jawbreakers that no American can
pronounce.
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