The man laid down the shirt into which he was fixing the studs.
"That's some news," he remarked bitterly.
"To wait on Mr. Van Teyl and Mr. Fischer, eh? What the hell do they want you for?"
Nikasti shook his head slowly. He was very small, and his dark eyes seemed filled with melancholy.
"It is not for a very long time," he ventured.
"Long enough to do me out of my five dollars' tip every week," the man grumbled. "I'm a married man, too, and a good American. Blast you fellows, coming and taking our jobs away! Can't think what they let you into the country for."
"I am sorry," Nikasti murmured.
"Your sorrow don't bring me in my five dollars," the valet retorted bitterly. "There's only two suites on this floor to work for, anyway, and this is the only one worth a cent."
"I am taking the situation," the other explained, "for the sake of experience. I do not wish to rob you of your earnings. I will pay you the five dollars a week while I stay here. You shall help me with the work."
"That's a deal, my little yellow-skinned kid," the valet agreed in a tone of relief. "I'll show you where the things are kept."