"No, I expect the printer to print what I write, and buy the book from me."
"Who gets all the money from the sale of the book?" asked Billy, with a huge grin on his face.
"Why, I expect that the printer and me'll go snucks. He gets half for printing it, and I get half for writing it."
"Oh, that's the game, is it? I think you'll have a sweet time of it finding a printer on that sort of a deal."
"Don't you think that would be a fair divvy?"
"No, the printer is taking all the chances and you're taking none. He puts up the dough and what do you put up?"
"My time and ability."
"Your ability!" shouted Billy as he went off into a spasm; "well, you've got lots of time, but I never know'd you had any ability."
"Laugh away, old boy," said I, considerably nettled; "it takes ability to write a book."