They were interrupted by a knocking, and Jaques went into the store and did not return for some minutes.
“Nolan, the river-jack,” he explained, as he came in. “Wanted gum-boots, and I thought I’d better let him have them; though he hasn’t paid for the last pair yet.”
“That,” Bethune smiled, “bears out my argument.”
Jaques looked at his wife, and she made a sign of assent, as if she understood him.
“Supper’s nearly ready, and you had better stay,” he said. “It’s plain fare, but you won’t find better biscuits and waffles than Susie’s in the province. Besides, it will give us time to think the thing over.”
They were glad to accept the invitation, and no more was said about business while they enjoyed the well cooked and daintily served meal. Jimmy was conscious of a growing admiration for his neat-handed hostess, with her bright, intelligent face, and her pretty but simple dress, and he tried to second Bethune in his amusing chatter. Jaques did not say much, but he looked pleased. As for Moran, he steadily worked his way through the good things set before him. His one remark was: “If we strike grub like this, ma’am, we’ll want to stop right in your town.”
“Then my husband will lose his order,” Mrs. Jaques replied, and though she laughed, Jimmy thought her answer had some significance.
When she cleared the table Jaques lighted a cigar and smiled rather grimly when Jimmy inquired if trade was good.
“Well,” he said, “it might be better—that’s one reason why I’d like to make a deal with you. There’s less money in keeping store than you might suppose. I’ve been two years in this town, and my customers are mostly of the kind the beginner gets—those who can’t pay up in time, and those who don’t mean to pay at all. The ones worth having go to the other man.”
“Where were you before?” Jimmy asked.