Scoop chestily informed the other that we were in town with our floating theater and proposed to give an evening performance.
“To advertise our show,” he went on, “we’ll [[88]]need some printed handbills—small ones, about four inches by six inches. How soon can you print them?”
“Printin’,” the man said pointedly, “costs money.”
“How much money?”
“Um.… Four hundred four-by-six handbills will cost you three dollars.”
At the leader’s directions I brought out my roll of greenbacks and peeled off three one-dollar bills.
“Well, well,” said the man, sort of thawing out at sight of our wealth.
“If we give you the job,” Scoop said, “you’ve got to promise to have the handbills ready for us by three o’clock. For it’ll take us a couple of hours to distribute them, and we’ll want to complete the job before supper.”
“Got much copy?”
“Not more than a hundred and fifty words.”