I was perfectly aware of all this, but I had a special motive for the present conversation.
"Now, it's come into my mind," I said, "that there's a lot of custom going downtown that ought by rights to come to the 'Golden Swan,' seeing that we are close at the gates, so to speak, and I mean to do what I can to get hold of it. A Chink's money is as good as anybody else's, Stanley, that's my way of looking at it."
He chewed the cud of that idea for a minute or two and then it dawned in the pudding of his mind.
"Why, yes," he said, in the voice of one who had made a great discovery.
"Now, there's that room upstairs," I went on, "I shall never use it. If we could get some of these Chinks to drop in there of a night it would be good business."
"There's just one thing against it," said Stanley, "if you'll pardon my speaking of it, sir. I'm willing to do everything in reason, and I'm not afraid of work. But I don't see as 'ow I can attend to both the saloon and the four-ale bars if I'm to be going upstairs slinging drinks to the Chinks."
"Of course you can't and I wasn't going to suggest it. We must get an extra help—if we can get the Chinks to use the house. We might have a barmaid."
He shook his head.
"It wouldn't work, sir; you'd have to get a new one every week. A young woman can't resist a Chink and they'd marry off like—"
Stanley was unable to think of a simile so he buried his face in his pewter pot.