“Well?” he panted. “Who is it? Who wants me?”
One of the loafers, who had been assisting the blacksmith by holding his pipe while he dove into the machinery, languidly motioned toward the new arrival. Benijah adjusted his spectacles and walked over to the wagon.
“Who is it?” he asked crossly. Then, as he recognized his visitor, he grunted: “Ugh! it's you, hey. Well, what do YOU want?”
“Want you to put a new shoe on this horse of mine,” replied Seth, not too graciously.
“Is that so! Well, I'm busy.”
“I don't care if you be. I guess you ain't so busy you can't do a job of work. If you are, you're richer'n I ever heard you was.”
“I want to know! Maybe I'm particular who I work for, Seth Atkins.”
“Maybe you are. I ain't so particular; if I was, I wouldn't come here, I tell you that. This horse of mine's got a loose shoe, and I want him attended to quick.”
“Thought you said you'd never trust me with another job.”
“I ain't trustin' you now. I'll be here while it's done. And I ain't askin' you to trust me, neither. I'll pay cash—cash, d'ye understand?”