He hurried away, and Lewis, feeling unaccountably tired, sat down on a divan. Nelton remained on guard beside the bags, repulsing the attacks of too anxious bell-boys. To him came a large, heavy-faced person, pensively plying a toothpick.
"Say, young feller," he said, "how much do you get?"
Nelton stared, dumfounded, at the stranger.
"How much do I get?" he stammered.
"Yep, just that," said the stranger. "What's your pay?"
Helton's face turned a brick red. He glared steadily into the stranger's eyes, but said nothing.
"Well, well, never mind the figure if you're ashamed of it," said the stranger, calmly. "This is my offer. If you'll shake your boss and come to me, I'll double your pay every year so long as you stick to that 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' talk and manner. What do you say? Is it a deal?"
"What do I s'y?" repeated Nelton, licking his lips. Lewis, grinning on the lounge, was eavesdropping with all his ears.
"H—m—m," said the stranger, "double your pay every year if you keep it up."
"I s'y this," said Nelton, a slight tremble in his voice, "I've been serving gentlemen so long that I don't think we'd hit it off together, thank you."