“You ain’t gut money enough.”
“Ten dollars weekly and all expenses.”
“A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!”
Again Trueman’s face reddened, for the note of derision in the laughter of the jay could not be mistaken.
“Isn’t that enough?” asked the captain of the St. Pauls.
“Be you the manager?”
“No.”
“Then you can’t make no kind of an offer, mister. What be you talkin’ about?”
“I’m taking chances. I’ll bring round the manager.”
“’Tain’t no use. He ain’t gut money ernuff to hire me.”