Mr. Strout leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his face.
“Wall, they must be a pretty near set if they expect more'n twelve per cent, on the capital. No, they're all right, 'though one of 'em, that Mr. Merry, is mighty inquisitive 'bout small things. Marryin' inter the Sawyer family 'counts for it, I s'pose.”
Hiram was used to hearing covert slurs and open flings at the Sawyer family, but had found replies only provocative of attacks upon himself, so he listened in silence. Mr. Strout took up the letter. “I wrote 'em 'bout startin' that new branch over to Westvale, and although they answered in a kinder top-lofty style—I reckon that young Merry writ the letter—I 'magine they're in for it, horse, foot, and dragoons. They'll put up the money. An' the question now is who'll go over and take charge of it.”
Hiram put his pipe on the table. “There's two folks that don't want to go, an' that's Mandy an' me. I don't s'pose the children would find any fault, but they're not old enough to vote on the question.”
Hiram knew that his partner was anxious to get him out of the Fernborough store, and so he filed his objections at once.
“Oh,” said Strout, “of course I didn't have no sech idee as askin' you to go, even if you did know who was the best man for the job. The snail thinks he's travelled a long ways when he goes a foot, an' some men are jus' like him.”
Hiram ignored the personal application.
“Well, bein's you didn't want me to go, I s'pose you've somebody in mind. Suit yourself, as us'al.”
“Well, I've thought it all over, an' I think Billy Ricker's our man. He'll be over from Montrose to-morrow an' I'll talk it over with him. We've got that Montrose trade so solid he can be spared from there now. Guess there ain't any trade tonight or Bob would have called us in afore this.”
“Ef we sold cord wood we might be doin' somethin',” and, laughing in his old way at his own joke, Hiram started to follow his partner into the store.