Will whistled, thoughtfully.
“It’s a bigger thing than I expected,” he acknowledged. “But, Doctor, it’s out of the question. I wouldn’t dare risk our little savings in this experiment, and aside from what’s put by for the winter, I haven’t enough money to buy the spawn to start with; or patch up the barn; or buy the water heater; or even market the stuff when it’s grown.”
“Who said anything about your spending money?” demanded the doctor, roughly. “All I want of you, sir, is to hire out to me to raise mushrooms. I’m going into the business.”
“You!”
“Yes, me. Confound it, Will Carden, do you think I’ve no ambition, just because I’m a country doctor? My daughter, that married the wholesale grocer in the city has three children already, and they’ve got to be looked after.”
“Can’t the wholesale grocer do that?” asked Will, with twinkling eyes.
“I’ve a right to leave a fortune to my own grandchildren if I want to,” growled the doctor; “and it’s none of your business, anyway, young fellow. The question is, will you hire out to me? You and Egbert; I want the two of you. The wages will be small, but they’ll be sure—even if I have to collect some bills to pay them. And I’ll furnish all the capital needed to fix up the barn and start things going.”
Will fairly gasped with astonishment.
“Do you really mean it, Doctor,” he asked.
“I usually mean what I say,” was the gruff retort. “Now, then, answer me! And, by hookey, if you refuse I’ll charge you two dollars for this consultation! Doctors can’t waste their time for nothing.”