"What's the matter with you, Beezer, h'm?" he inquired perplexedly, when the other was at an end.
"Haven't I just told you?" said Beezer. "I want to quit fitting and get running."
"Talks as though he meant it," commented Regan sotto voce to himself, as he peered earnestly into the fitter's face.
"Of course, I mean it," declared Beezer, a little tartly. "Why wouldn't I?"
"No," said Regan; "that ain't the question. The question is, why would you? H'm?"
"Because," Beezer answered promptly, "I like a snap as well as the next man. It's a better job than the one I've got, better money, better hours, easier all around, and one I can hold down with the best of them."
Regan's eyebrows went up.
"Think so?" he remarked casually.
"I do," declared Beezer.
"Well, then," said Regan, "if you've thought it all out and made up your mind, there's nothing I know of to stop you. Want to begin right away?"