"No, we came down to see if you needed any painters," answered Dave.
"Well, I dunno. What do you think of this job of mine? Ain't it pretty slick?" And Ike Rasmer surveyed his work with evident satisfaction.
"It's all right, Ike," answered Roger. "When you give up boating, take to house-painting, by all means."
"House-painting?" snorted the man. "Not fer me! I ain't goin' to fall off no slippery ladder an' break my neck. I'd rather paint signs. What's that you've got, a broken oarlock?"
"Yes, and I want to know if you'll sell me one to match?"
"Sure I will," answered Ike Rasmer, with a twinkle in his eye. He threw down his paint brush and walked into his boathouse. "Here you be, my boy!" And he held up the parts of a broken oarlock.
"Well—I—I didn't want a broken one," stammered the senator's son.
"Didn't ye say you wanted one to match? Ho, ho! I reckon I cotched you that trip, didn't I?" And the man continued to laugh, and Dave and Phil joined in.
"Ike must have swallowed a whetstone this morning," observed Dave.
"A whetstone?" queried the old boatman. "Why?"