"Jimmy's folks are very poor," said I.
"That's so," said Ned. "I don't suppose his father ever had fifteen dollars at one time in his life. Do you think of any good way in which I could help him with a little capital?"
"I don't know of any way, unless it is to print his poems. I should think if his poems could once be published, he might make a great deal of money out of them, and be able to support himself, and perhaps help his mother a little."
"That's so," said Ned. "I'll publish his poems for him. Come over after supper, and we'll talk it up."
CHAPTER VI.
THE PRICE OF POETRY.
When I went over in the evening, I found that Ned had gone to Jimmy's house, and obtained thirteen of his poems in manuscript, and was now carefully looking them over, correcting what he considered errors.
"I tell you what 'tis," said he, "Jimmy's an awful good poet, but he needs somebody to look out for his facts."
"Do you find many mistakes?" said I.