I went immediately to Walkirk, who was at the inn, working
upon some of my accounts.
"Walkirk," said I, "I can get somebody else to do that sort of thing. I
want you to act as my amanuensis."
To my surprise his face clouded. He seemed troubled, even pained.
"I am very, very sorry," he said, "to decline any work which you may
desire me to do, but I really must decline this. I cannot write from
dictation. I cannot be your amanuensis. Although it may seem like
boasting, this is one of the few things I cannot do: my nervous
temperament, my disposition, in fact my very nature, stand in the way,
and make the thing impossible."
I could not understand Walkirk's objections to this sort of work, for he
was a ready writer, a good stenographer, and had shown himself perfectly
willing and able to perform duties much more difficult and distasteful
than I imagined this possibly could be. But there are many things I do
not understand, and which I consider it a waste of time to try to
understand; and this was one of them.
"Then I must get some one else," said I.
"If you decide to do that," said Walkirk, "I will attend to the matter
for you, and you need trouble yourself no further about it. I will go to
the city, or wherever it is necessary to go, and get you an amanuensis.
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