‘Well, I’ll leave it with you. You need not trouble to read it, because, if you don’t take it, I know who will.’
‘What do you want for this triumph of genius?’
‘Well, in a word, ten pounds. Take it or leave it.’
‘If you say it is worth it, I suppose I must oblige you.’
‘That is a good way of putting it; and it will oblige me. But mark me—this man will some day confer favours by writing for you, instead of, as you regard it at present, favouring him.’
The proprietor of the Midas sighed gently. The idea of paying over ten pounds to an unknown contributor was not nice, but the fact of offending Felix was worse.
‘If,’ said he, harping on the old string, and shaking his head with a gentle deprecating motion—‘if it was one of yours now’——
‘What confounded nonsense you talk!’ exclaimed Felix impatiently.
‘Don’t get wild, Felix,’ replied Mr Simpson soothingly. ‘I will take your protégé’s offering, to oblige you.’
‘But I don’t want you to oblige me. I want you to accept—and pay for—an article good enough for anything. It is a fair transaction; and if there is any favour about it, then it certainly is not on your side.’