"Yes, if you please," quavered the man with the bent shoulders.
The little harness-maker lighted a candle and led the way to a staircase at the side which opened into the street. A troop of children had possession of it and their shrill outcries as they ran up and down were deafening. Like a fury the Pole ran among them, scattering them right and left.
"But they are good children," he told the prospective tenant, "and they make very little noise."
The room was small and had a window opening upon a court; the furniture was scant and the floor was bare.
"Once," confessed the little harness-maker, "I had a carpet for it; but there were so many holes in it at last, that I took it up. Some day," hopefully, "I shall get another."
The other gave a glance about.
"I shall take it—if it is not too much."
"Six dollars a month is not too much," said the tradesman landlord. "It is worth more."
"I'll give you five," stated the other, in his shaky voice.
The Pole gestured his despair; the candle went up and down and the two huge shadows jigged grotesquely upon the wall.