The younger was short and thick-set, with broad shoulders, bull neck and bullet head covered with a thick shock of red hair.
Both men were in rags.
They came and stood before Everage and pulled their forelocks by way of salutation.
“Well, my men, are you to be trusted in a service the faithful performance of which will accrue to your own profit?” inquired Everage, as he scanned his “tools.”
Now the only ideas the ruffians gained from this speech was that there were secret services required, for which money was to be paid. So one of them, the dark one, replied:
“What we undertakes to do, your honor, that we does faithful. But it depends on what the service is, and how it pays, whether we undertakes it.”
“But if we undertakes it, we performs it faithful,” added the other, the red one.
“Then, Mother Rooter, secure the door; and now all gather around me. You two men, and you, mother, sit upon the bedside, and bend close to me as I sit upon the chair before you.”
The three arranged themselves as their employer directed.
Then he, stooping towards them, and they towards him, so that all their mischief-brewing heads were together, began in a low whisper to unfold his plans. He came immediately to the point.