“Yes,” answered Tom, promptly, “that’s right. Now, twenty-five pounds of fish, at three cents a pound, makes—makes—let me see!”
“Seventy-five cents,” replied Bob, readily.
“So it does!” exclaimed Tom; although, if the fisher-boy had told him that the amount was a dollar and a half, he would have been just as ready to believe it. Seventy-five cents was all the money he had left of the two dollars he had drawn that morning. This he counted out to Bob, who received it gladly, for it was a larger amount than he had ever before made in one day.
“If I have good luck, I’ll have as many more for you to-morrow,” said he, as he returned from the house, where he had been to give the money to his mother. “But what’s the matter? Don’t they suit you?”
This question was addressed to the young trader, who stood looking at his wagon-load of fish, with rather a doleful countenance. The question had occurred to him, how he was to get them up to the store? He knew that the wagon, when in motion, made a great noise with its wooden wheels, which would be certain to attract the attention of every one he met, and he did not think it would look well for a man of business to be seen walking through the streets drawing a wagon-load of fish after him. His pride was too great for that.
“Bob,” said he, at length, a bright idea striking him, “I’ll give you twenty-five cents if you will take those fish up to Mr. Henry’s store for me.”
The fisher-boy, who would gladly have undertaken the task for half that sum, not deeming any way of earning an honest penny a disgrace, at once took hold of the wagon-tongue and started off. Tom followed him for a short distance; but, as he had expected, the loud creaking of the wheels drew the attention of every person on the streets, who looked first at the fisher-boy and then at Tom, until the latter, unable to endure it longer, turned off and went around by the wharf, leaving Bob to himself. When he arrived at Mr. Henry’s store, he found the fisher-boy there, and the grocer had just finished weighing out his fish.
“Ah, here you are!” he exclaimed, as the young trader entered. “Please come with me, and I will settle with you.” And Tom was conducted to the office with as much ceremony as if he had just sold Mr. Henry a bill of goods to the amount of hundreds of dollars.
“Now then, Tom,” said the grocer, producing his pocket-book, “twenty-five pounds of fish, at five cents a pound, makes just a dollar, even change—eh, Tom?”