“Rock’s got it.”
“Thought I said to grab every bit of writing you could get your hands on.”
“This didn’t amount to nothin’,” said the man.
“You aren’t on the job to think, but to do what you’re told.”
“Well, I done it,” says the man; “anyhow I made a copy of it, and give the old man’s writin’ to the kid.”
“Let’s have it,” says the Knight.
He read it, or I guess that’s what he was doing, because he was still awhile. Then he grunted, disgusted-like.
“No sense to it,” says he.
“Not a mite,” says the other man.
“But there may be,” says the Knight.