"I am Tom Carver, at your service."
"Glad to know you. Where do you live? Maybe your wife would like some tinware this mornin'?" said Abner, relaxing his gaunt features into a smile.
"She didn't say anything about it when I came out," said Tom, entering into the joke.
"Maybe you'd like a tin-dipper for your youngest boy?"
"Maybe I would, if you've got any to give away."
"I see you've cut your eye-teeth. Is there anything else I can do for you? I'm in for a trade."
"I don't know, unless I sell myself for rags."
"Anything for a trade. I'll give you two cents a pound."
"That's too cheap. I came to ask your help in a trick we boys want to play on one of our number."
"Sho! you don't say so. That aint exactly in my line."