"But it's like findin' it, for I didn't expect nuth'n'. I wish I could do more of 'em at the same price; but I did thet pome when I were young an' hed more ambition. I couldn't think of another like it to save my neck."
"I am glad of that, Peggy. One of this kind is all a paper dare print.
We mustn't get too popular, you know."
"I s'pose you'll print my name as the one what did it?" he inquired anxiously.
"I shall print it just as it's written, advertisement and all."
She did, and Peggy bought two extra copies, at a cent apiece. He framed all three and hung one in his office, one in the sitting room and a third in his bedroom, where he could see it the first thing when he wakened each morning. His fellow villagers were very proud of him, in spite of the "knocking" of the Clarks. Skim was deeply mortified that Peggy's "bum pome" had been accepted and his own masterly composition "turned down cold." The widow backed her son and told all the neighbors that "Peggy never hed the brains to write thet pome, an' the chances air he stole it from the 'Malvern Weekly Journal.' Them gal edyturs wouldn't know," she added scornfully; "they's as ignerunt as Peggy is, mostly."
A few days later McNutt entered the printing office with an air of great importance.
"Goodness me! I hope you haven't done it again, Peggy," cried Patsy, in alarm.
"No; I got fame enough. What I want is to hev the wordin' on my business cards changed," said he. "What'll it cost?"
"What change do you wish made?" asked Patsy, examining the sample card.
"Instead of 'Marshall McMahon McNutt, dealer in Real Estate an' Spring
Chickens,' I want to make it read: 'dealer in Real Estate, Spring
Chickens an' Poetry.' What'll it cost. Miss Patsy?"