"Need some, don't you? Somebody to
write letters and sort of look after things, eh?"
"Why--er--I've never thought about it."
"If you was to think about it, you'd calc'late on payin' about six
dollars a week, wouldn't you?" Bob swallowed hard. Six dollars a week
was a great deal of money to this young man, just embarking on the
practice of his profession. "Guess that would be about right," he said.
"Got anybody in mind, Bob? Thinkin' of anybody specific for the place?"
Bob shook his head.
"Um!... Nahum Pound's daughter's boardin' with Grandma Penny, that's now
Mis' Spackles. All-fired perty girl, Bob. Don't call to mind no pertier.
Sairy's her name.... G'-by, Bob. G'-by."
He walked to the door, but paused. "About that six dollars, Bob--I was
figgerin' on payin' that out of my own pocket."
Bob Allen was not accustomed to the oversight of employees--least of all
to an employee who was very satisfying to look at, who was winsomely
young, whose mere presence distracted his thoughts from that rigorous
concentration upon the logical principles of the law.... He did not know
what to do with Sarah once he had hired her, and it required so much of
his time and brain power to think up something for her to do that it is
fortunate his practice was neither large nor arduous.
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