“I suppose that’s the only way. Or, hold on, why not look at the advertisements? Some fellow may be advertising right now for a job like this. I’ll go down and get the paper and we’ll have a look.”
They found nothing promising that evening, but two days later they did, and in response to their reply, left at the Recorder office, Mr. Chester Young called on them Sunday afternoon. Mr. Young was a well-dressed, dapper youth of twenty-one or -two who consumed cigarettes voluminously and had a pair of somewhat shifty black eyes. The boys didn’t fancy his personality much, but he convinced them that he knew how to sell goods and presented recommendations from a former employer in Youngstown that read extremely well. They dismissed the applicant with a promise to let him hear definitely from them on Tuesday, and Mr. Chester Young, tucking his bamboo cane under his arm, took himself smilingly out.
“What do you think?” asked Jack when the front door had closed.
“I think,” replied Joe, “that I wouldn’t trust that chap around the corner.”
“Me, too. But he looks smart, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. I think he’d be just the fellow for us if—How much does a small cash register cost?”
“Search me! But if we had one of those——”
“Yes, I guess Mr. Chester Young wouldn’t have much chance to get absent-minded with the cash. First of all, though, we’d better get that man he worked for on the long distance and see what he has to say about Chester. Then, if it’s all right, we can price a cash register. I suppose we could get one for twenty-five dollars, don’t you?”
“I should hope so! Where’d we get the twenty-five?”