k. With all its faults,
he liked it. There was something breezy about it, and it had a theme
that he did not remember had been treated exactly in the same way
before. Though, as he himself had said, without much talent for
composition, Archie had read a great many books. It is no proof because
a person cannot write that he would make a poor critic. Mr. Weil might
almost have filled Lawrence Gouger's place at Cutt & Slashem's. He had
written fugitive pieces in his time for the papers, in reference to his
travels, which had been extensive, and had even contributed occasional
book reviews to the magazines. His connection with Gouger enabled him to
keep in touch with what was going on in the literary world, and the
dozens of new volumes which passed through that office were always at
his disposal.

"She's not a fool, by any means," he remarked to himself, when he put
down the last sheet of Miss Fern's work. "A fellow who understood his
business might put that into such shape that it would be worth using. I
mean to find some one who can do it, and suggest the idea to her, when I
get to that stage in this affair. Let me see, who do I know that could
undertake it?"

He had begun to undress, and was in the act of taking off his collar as
he spoke. His mind ran over a list of struggling literary men. Something
seemed the matter with most of them. There was Hamlin, but he would be
too exacting, and would want to suggest alterations in the story itself,
which would never do. There was Insley, whose last three books had been
flat failures, and for whom Cutt & Slashem had positively refused to
print anything more; but Insley had gone into the country for the summer
and nobody knew his address. Then there was--

"_Roseleaf!_"

Archie received this thought like an inspiration. He threw his cravat on
the bureau and began tugging at his shoestrings to the imminent danger
of getting them into hard knots that no one could unravel. Roseleaf! Why
not? The boy would do almost anything he suggested, so great was his
confidence that a road to literary preferment could be staked out over
that path. Roseleaf would not undertake the work for the sake of
pecuniary compensation, but the thing could be presented to him in quite
another light. In Miss Fern's story there were living, breathing men and
women. In his own there were beautifully drawn marionettes. He could be
made to see that the study of the young lady's method was worth his
while.