Uncle Ezra sat in gloomy silence during the remainder of the meal. Simon and Guy ate the last of the ham and eggs, and drained their coffee cups.
"I would like a cigar," began Simon, in a reflective sort of tone.
"Then, you'll buy it yourself," fairly growled Mr. Larabee. "Boys shouldn't smoke, nor men neither. Now, if you've finished, and the land knows you've eaten enough for two days, we'll talk business. I have some work I think you can do for me, but it must be kept quiet. I'll pay this bill, though probably it'll be terrible high, and then we can go to some private room. Is there a secluded room here?" the old man asked the waitress.
"Yes," she assented, as she handed Mr. Larabee a slip with the amount of the charge on it.
"As much as that?" he gasped. "Can't you make it a little less?"
"Those are the regular prices," she answered with scornfully curling lip, as she handed him the bill of fare. He scanned it carefully through his spectacles, and, finding that the waitress was right, slowly counted out the change. He wanted the girl to accept, with the other money, a quarter with a hole in it, which piece he had vainly tried to pass several times before, but without success. She took it to the proprietor, who offered to accept it at fifteen cents.
"No, I won't take less than twenty-three for it," said Uncle Ezra. "It's a very small hole," and he put the quarter back in his pocket, to save for a future occasion.
Carefully closing the door of the private room, to which the waitress showed him, Mr. Larabee had a long talk with Guy and Simon. That there were differences of opinion was evident from the loud voices which came from the apartment at times. Finally the old man was heard to say:
"Well, that's my offer; take it or leave it."
"It's very small pay, considering the risk we run, and counting that the boat might sink in a storm," said Guy.