"But he's been with the show since he was born," growled the showman. "Why shouldn't he want to be a showman, too? All the Sorbers have been, since away back. I was thinkin' of changing his name by law so as to have him in the family in earnest."
"I'll never own to any name but my own again," declared Neale, from across the table.
"That's your answer, Mr. Sorber," declared Murphy, earnestly. "The boy wants to go his own way—and that's the way of his fathers, belike. But I'm a fair man. I can see 'tis a loss to you if Neale stays here and goes to school."
"I guess it is, Mister," said the showman, rather belligerently. "And I guess you don't know how much of a loss."
"Well," said the cobbler, coolly. "Put a figure to it. How much?"
"How much what?" demanded Mr. Sorber, bending his brows upon the Irishman, while the children waited breathlessly.
"Money. Neale's a big drawin' kyard ye say yerself. Then, how much money will ye take for your right to him?"
Mr. Sorber laid down his knife and fork and stared at Mr. Murphy.
"Do you mean that, sir?" he asked, with strange quietness.
"Do I mean am I willin' to pay the bye out of yer clutches?" demanded the cobbler, with growing heat. "'Deed and I am! and if my pile isn't big enough, mebbe I kin find good friends of Neale O'Neil in this town that'll be glad to chip in wid me and give the bye his chance.