"Oh!" said the little man, rather abashed; "I'm only a tailor—and—should like to inquire after work; you have given notice outside that five hundred——"
"Yes, that was three days ago," the clothes-dealer interrupted him, suddenly changing his tone altogether. "Since then, I've engaged four hundred and sixty—indeed, I should have liked to make up the five hundred, but as most of the work is already arranged, I could only pay the rest very small wages; besides, most of our summer clothing is made by sempstresses. However, you may work a week on trial. You're only just arrived, aint you?"
The tailor answered in the affirmative, wondering at the same time how the man could know this.
"Well, then," continued the other, "as I said, you may work a week on trial, and I'll pay your board—if we suit each other, at the end of the time, we can enter into an engagement."
"We'll consider it, meanwhile," said the brewer, going away, and dragging the little tailor, who offered little resistance, after him, by his coat tails, out of the shop.
"What a lot of clothes were hanging in there!" said Schmidt, when they got outside again.
"I wonder where he puts his four hundred and sixty journeymen to," said the little tailor, looking up towards the house; "that must be something like a workshop!"
"He's no fool," the brewer rejoined; "he wants to get you to work a week for nothing—a pretty arrangement, that!"
"But it may be the custom here, you know," said the tailor.
"Oh, I wish they may get it!" replied the brewer; "if that's the custom, I won't stay in America. But, hallo! if there aint the Oldenburghers coming along!"