"Well, what luck, Mark?" said Ben. "I took in that chap neat, didn't I?"
"But you didn't tell the truth," said Mark. "You don't have to buy a license."
"Oh, what's the odds?" said Ben, whose ideas on the subject of truth were far from being strict. "It's all fair in business. Didn't that chap open his eyes when I told him about payin' five hundred dollars?"
"I don't think it's right, Ben," said Mark, seriously.
"Don't you go to preachin', Mark," said Ben, not altogether pleased. "You've been tied to an old woman's apron-string too long,—that's what's the matter with you."
"Mother Watson didn't teach me the truth," said Mark. "She don't care whether I tell it or not except to her. It was my mother that told me I ought always to tell the truth."
"Women don't know anything about business," said Ben. "Nobody in business speaks the truth. Do you see that sign?"
Mark looked across the street, and saw a large placard, setting forth that a stock of books and stationery was selling off at less than cost.
"Do you believe that?" asked Ben.