“If I was to neglect business to gratify my feelings, I should be grizzling all the time; and wouldn't that be making a toil of a pleasure?”
Henry could only grin in reply to this beautiful piece of reasoning; and that same afternoon the pair were in Hillsborough, and Mr. Bolt, under Henry's guidance, inspected the grinding of heavy saws, both long and circular. He noted, at Henry's request, the heavy, dirty labor. He then mounted to the studio, and there Henry lectured on his models, and showed them working. Bolt took it all in, his eye flashed, and then he put on, for the first time, the coldness of the practiced dealer. “It would take a good deal of money to work this properly,” said he, shaking his head.
“It has taken a good deal of brains to invent it.”
“No doubt, no doubt. Well, if you want me to join you, it must be on suitable terms. Money is tight.”
“Well, propose your own terms.”
“That's not my way. I'll think it over before I put my hand to paper. Give me till to-morrow.”
“Certainly.”
On this Mr. Bolt went off as if he had been shot.
He returned next day, and laid before Henry an agreement drawn by the sharpest attorney in Hillsborough, and written in a clerk's hand. “There,” said he, briskly, “you sign that, and I'll make my mark, and at it we go.”
“Stop a bit,” said Henry. “You've been to a lawyer, have you? Then I must go to one, too; fair play's a jewel.”