"We could hardly afford to do that, you know," Prescott replied. "Down in a town like Gridley these brook trout ought to retail for a dollar and a half a pound. We'll offer them to you, sir, at sixty cents a pound—-flat."
"Take 'em away!" ordered the hotel man, with an air of finality.
This time it was plain that he did not propose to purchase.
"You won't be sorry after we're gone, will you?" asked Dick politely.
"I can't afford to put sixty-cents-a-pound fish on my bill of fare," said the hotel man.
At this moment two well-dressed, prosperous-looking, middle-aged men came strolling around the corner of the building. As Dick was about to cover his fish one of them caught sight of the speckled beauties, and stopped short.
"Hello! Aren't these fine, Johnson?" the man demanded of the proprietor. "Going to buy these trout for the hotel?"
"I can't afford to put such costly fish on the bill of fare," replied Johnson candidly.
"Man, you don't have to," replied the other. "Send these trout to the grill-room ice-box. Let guests who want brook trout order them as extras. Why, I'll eat a few of these myself, if you serve 'em."
"Certainly," nodded the other man.
Proprietor Johnson had caught a new idea from the suggestion of serving the trout as an "extra" in the grill-room of the hotel. All of a sudden he began to scent a profit.