I think you wrong. On your own principle, laid down in your letter,
that "every man has a right to the full value of his labor"--pardon
me, good Englishman, I meant "laboUr"--you have a right to your wage
for the labo_u_r of teaching Leigh. And what work would _he_ get to do
but for you?
I can't hold you and inject shekels into your pocket, but if the voice
of remonstrance has authority to enter at your ear without a ticket I
pray you to show it hospitality.
Leigh doubtless likes to see his work in print, but I hope you will
not let him put anything out until it is as good as he can make
it--nor then if it is not good _enough_. And that whether he signs it
or not. I have talked to him about the relation of conscience to
lab-work, but I don't know if my talk all came out at the other ear.
O--that bad joke o' mine. Where do you and Richard expect to go when
death do you part? You were neither of you present that night on the
dam, nor did I know either of you. Blanche, thank God, retains the
old-time reverence for truth: it was to her that I said it. Richard
evidently dreamed it, and you--you've been believing that confounded
_Wave_! Sincerely yours,