"But that's an outrage."
Geo. B. laughed.
"It always strikes a stranger that way—till he gets used to it," he said. "I've been to a good many summer resorts, in my day, and always there's somebody on hand to relieve the innocent resorter of his wad. If there wasn't, you'd feel you'd missed something. It's like going to law—don't matter much which lawyer you go to, you're bound to be robbed."
Jarrod smiled.
"Therefore, if you want Tamawaca, sir, you've just got to take Wilder with it," resumed the little man; "and perhaps you couldn't be half so happy there if Wilder was gone."
"Does he own the place?"
"Of course. He and old man Easton. Wilder has one-third and old man Easton two-thirds of the whole place; but then, Easton also has Wilder, just the same as all the rest of us have him."
"What sort of a man is Easton?"
"Fine old religious duffer, who loves to pray for your spiritual well-fare while he feels for your pocket-book. Public opinion's divided between the two partners. Some say Wilder's a highwayman and Easton's a robber, while others claim Easton's the highwayman and Wilder's the robber. You can take your choice."
"What a bad state of affairs!" ejaculated Jarrod, with twinkling eyes. "I'm sorry the boat has started."