"Oh, that's a very different matter," demurred Billy; "I don't teach, and anyway it would be awful waste of time."
"I will pay you your own fee," grinned the Writer, as he fingered a cheque-book, artlessly placed upon the top of a desk. "Nice fat cheque, Billy, always useful."
Mr. Billy Cracker appeared instantly to succumb to this suggestion and to take very kindly to it.
"Here are the words," said the Writer modestly, handing two half-sheets of notepaper to his friend, "there is the grand piano, Billy, opened already, a medium of expression only waiting for your musical genius."
"Let's see the words," said Billy.
Mr. Cracker perused the lines offered for his inspection with amazement.
"I say," he observed, "they seem awful rot."
The Writer laughed.
"Ah, Billy, that's only because you don't know the situation yet."
"True," assented Billy; "I've had worse given me to set in musical comedies. Now let me see," murmured Mr. Cracker as he seated himself at the pianoforte, "scansion is the great thing—scansion and rhythm."