“I know something of them.”
“Thats what prejudiced me against you. I hired a college boy once as a clerk and he was the worst failure I ever came across. He seemed to have all kinds of sense except common sense. I reckon he was a smart scholar, and he could have made out the bills for the boarders in Latin or Greek if it had been necessary, but he was that soft that any one could cheat him. Things got so mixed up in the department that I had to turn him adrift in a couple of weeks. I surmised you might be the same sort of a chap. If you were it would be a bad lookout for Jefferson.”
In Oreville Mr. Pettigrew was so well known that nearly everyone called him by his first name. Mr. Pettigrew did not care about this as he had no false pride or artificial dignity.
“Do you consider this hotel a good property, Mr. Bailey?”
“I’ll tell you this much. I started here four years ago, and I’ve made fifty thousand dollars which I shall take back with me to New Hampshire.”
“That certainly is satisfactory.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if you could improve upon it.”
“How does it happen that you sell out such a valuable property, Mr. Bailey? Are you tired of making money?”
“No, but I must tell you that there’s a girl waiting for me at home, an old schoolmate, who will become Mrs. Bailey as soon as possible after I get back. If she would come out here I wouldn’t sell, but she has a mother that she wouldn’t leave, and so I must go to her.”
“That is a good reason, Mr. Bailey.”