"Yes," says I, "me. Not that I feel any different about skinnin' Aunt Hannah than I ever did, but because there's a bare chance that her place may be big enough for us to move the store and post-office to, after all. With that idea and no other, I'll go with you, Jim."
So we went together, though we never spoke more than two words on the way down. We got the key at the jewelry and hardware shop next door and went in. The Watson place was an old-fashioned tumble-down buildin' with a big open lower floor and two or three rooms overhead. I saw right off 'twouldn't do for us to move into, but likewise I saw that the lower floor might do for Foster, though 'twa'n't as good as where he was, by consider'ble.
Jim Henry looked the place over.
"No good for us," he snapped.
"None at all," says I.
"Humph!" says he, and we locked up and came down the steps together. As we did so I noticed someone watchin' us from acrost the road.
"There's our friend, Jim Henry," says I. "And, judgin' by the way he's starin', he's got on his fur-off glasses and knows who we are."
He looked across. "Old Taylor, by thunder!" says he. "Well, if my deal goes through we'll jolt the old tight-wad yet."
"Do you mean you're goin' on with that low-down billiard-room game?" I asked.
"Of course I do," he snapped.