She asked him sternly what he had done to merit that daily bread which was given him without a murmur? And what excuse he could make for his bad temper and his rudeness toward the woman who had done so much for him?
He had no excuse to make—because Rebekah would not have understood the true one—wherefore she bade him repent and reform, or he would hear more from her. This threat frightened him, though it could not remove his irritation and depression; but, on the third day, sunshine and good cheer and hope, new hope and enthusiasm, returned to him. For Miss Kennedy announced to him with many smiles that a publisher had accepted his manuscript; and that it had already been sent to the printers.
"He will publish it for you," she said, "at no cost to yourself. He will give you as many copies as you wish to have for presentation among your friends and among your subscribers. You will like to send copies to your subscribers, will you not?"
He rubbed his hands and laughed aloud.
"That," he said, "will prove that I did not eat up the subscriptions."
"Of course,"—Angela smiled, but did not contradict the proposition—"of course, Mr. Fagg. And if ever there was any doubt in your own mind about that money it is now removed, because the book will be in their hands; and all they wanted was the book."
"Yes, yes; and no one will be able to say—you know what. Will they?"
"No, no; you will have proofs sent you."
"Proofs," he murmured, "proofs in print!—will they send me proofs soon?"
"I believe you will have the whole book set up in a few weeks."