It's a mistake, and you're not the first
that'll find it out."
"This much I know," replied Waymark, with decision. "Set me to
anything that can be learnt, and I'll be perfect in it in a quarter
the time it would take the average man."
"You want your evenings free?" asked the other, after a short
reflection. "What will you do with them?"
"I shall give them to literary work."
"I thought as much. And you think you can be a man of business and a
poet at the same time? No go, my boy. If you take up business, you
drop poetising. Those two horses never yet pulled at the same shaft,
and never will."
Mr. Woodstock pondered for a few moments. He thrust out his great
legs with feet crossed on the fender, and with his hands jingled
coin in his trouser-pockets.
"I tell you what," he suddenly began. "There's only one thing I know
of at present that you're likely to be able to do. Suppose I gave
you the job of collecting my rents down east."
"Weekly rents?"
"Weekly. It's a rough quarter, and they're a shady lot of customers.
You wouldn't find the job over-pleasant, but you might try, eh?"
"What would it bring me in,--to go at once to the point?"
"The rents average twenty-five pounds.
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