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ent of my leisure hours. It's not very interesting here, if your Honor would please to remember. I have no society--none, sir. What can I do but compose?" "You want company?" "I want a wife, sir; I acknowledge it freely." Mr. Rushton smiled grimly. "Why don't you get one, then?" he said; "but this is not what I meant. I'm going to give you a companion." "A companion?" "An assistant, sir." "Very well," said Mr. Roundjacket, "I shall then have more time to devote to my epic." "Epic, the devil! You'll be obliged to do more than ever." "More?" "Yes--you will have to teach the new comer office duty." "Who is he?" "An Indian." "What?" "The Indian boy Verty--you have seen him, I know." Mr. Roundjacket uttered a prolonged whistle. "There!" cried Mr. Rushton--"you are incredulous, like everybody!" "Yes, I am!" "You doubt my ability to capture him?" "Precisely." "Well, sir! we'll see. I have never yet given up what I have once undertaken. Smile as you please, you moon-struck poet; and if you want an incident to put in your trashy law-epic, new nib your pen to introduce a wild Indian. Stop! I'm tired talking! Don't answer me. If any one calls, say I'm gone away, or dead, or anything. Get that old desk ready for the Indian. He will be here on Monday." And Mr. Rushton passed into his sanctum, and slammed the door after him. On the next day the lawyer set out toward the pine hills. On the road he met Verty strolling along disconsolately. A few words passed between them, and they continued their way in company toward the old Indian woman's hut. Mr. Rushton returned to Winchester at twilight. On Monday morning Verty rode into the town, and dismounted at the door of the law office. CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH ROUNDJACKET READS HIS GREAT POEM. Three days after the events which we have just related, or rather after the introduction of the reader to the three localities with which our brief history will concern itself, Mr. Roundjacket was sitting on his high stool in one corner of the office, preparing the papers in a friendly suit in Chancery. It was about ten o'clock in the morning, and Verty, who rode home every evening, had just come in and had taken his seat at the desk in the corner appropriated to him, beneath the small dingy window, looking out upon the yard. Longears was stretched at his feet. Verty's face was more dreamy and thoughtful than ever. The dim smile
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