They went down to the parlor again, and though there were people in
it, they found a corner apart, and in less than ten minutes he had
told her what had happened.

She took the manuscript he handed to her.

"If I was well educated, I should know how to help you," she said,
"but I've only been to a common Manchester school. I don't know
anything about elegant language. What are these?" pointing to the
blue-pencil marks.

Tembarom explained, and she studied the blue slashes with serious
attention.

"Well," she said in a few minutes, laying the manuscript down, "I
should have cut those words out myself if--if you'd asked me which to
take away. They're too showy, Mr. Tembarom."

Tembarom whipped a pencil out of his pocket and held it out.

"Say," he put it to her, "would you take this and draw it through a
few of the other showy ones?"

"I should feel as if I was taking too much upon myself," she said. "I
don't know anything about it."

"You know a darned sight more than I do," Tembarom argued. "I didn't
know they were showy. I thought they were the kind you had to put in
newspaper stuff."