“Doctor,” said he, “you’re the best friend a fellow ever had. But it’s too much. I won’t take it.”
“How do you know there’s going to be any profit?” demanded the doctor, sternly. “And if there is, who’ll make it? Don’t you be a confounded idiot, Will Carden, and bother me when I’m trying to drive a bargain. I know what I’m doing, and those grandchildren have got to be provided for.”
“Suppose we fail?” questioned Will, half fearfully.
“Bosh! We can’t fail. I’ve talked with that wholesale grocer son-in-law of mine, and he agrees to find customers for all the toad-stools we can raise. So it’s up to you, old fellow, to sprout the mushrooms and then the thing’s settled.”
“I’ll do the best I can, Doctor.”
“Then it’s all agreed, and I’ll draw up the papers for you to sign.”
“Papers!”
“Of course. This is an important business, and it’s got to be ship-shape, and in writing, so there’ll be no backing out. Suppose that wholesale grocer goes bankrupt—what’s to become of my grandchildren?”
Then he picked up his medicine case and stalked away, leaving the boy thoroughly bewildered by the propositions he had advanced.
He told Egbert about it, for all of the Carden family were familiar with the sign language, and the deaf-mute at once became greatly interested, and eagerly agreed to undertake his share of the work. Also he told his mother, and the poor woman sat down and cried softly, afterward wiping away the tears with a corner of her apron. She was really tired with all the house work, and the prospect of twenty dollars a month added to their income seemed like a fortune to her. But she said: