“All the same, ’Orace,” remarked Mr. Tridge, “I should like to know what the idea is.”
“Only another day or two, Joe,” promised Mr. Dobb, “and then, if things pan out right, you’ll be cutting ’air in a little shop practically your own. ’Ow’s that, eh?”
“Well, I take it as very kind of you, ’Orace,” said Mr. Tridge, with gratitude.
“Then you takes it wrong,” retorted Mr. Dobb. “You know my motter, don’t you?”
“Yes, we all knows it,” put in Mr. Lock, a little hostilely. “It’s ‘Strictly Business!’ Saved you a pint or two in its time, hasn’t it, that motter?”
“It ’as,” confirmed Mr. Dobb, by no means abashed. “It is a jolly good motter, far as I’m concerned. And this ’air-dressing idea is strictly business. I’m working it for all our sakes, and mine most of all. When I’ve got Joe settled as a barber and found something for you, Peter, the four of us ought to work some good deals together, from my little place.”
“A ferryman, a barber, a—a something else, and a second-hand dealer,” catalogued Mr. Lock. “It ain’t a bad web to spread. Lots of rubbish gets sold because of rumours about them being vallyble.”
“Exackly!” concurred Mr. Dobb. “And barbers’ shops and ferry-boats is the place for gossip. And there’s lots of strangers visits Shore’aven during the year.”
“And so you’re going to start me in a barber’s shop!” remarked Mr. Tridge, with great satisfaction. “Will there be a cash-register?” he asked, as an interesting after-thought.
“No, I ain’t going to start you, Joe,” corrected Mr. Dobb. “It’s a Mrs. Jackson what’s going to start you, only she don’t know it yet.”