“It may be so,” Long added, after a pause. “I have thought a great deal on this subject, and am not yet decided. You have sold rum, have you not?”
Marble nodded.
“Well, do you think what you have sold has done most—which?—good, or bad?”
“Bad,” was the prompt reply.
“I thought as much,” answered Long; “but that is not what I was going to speak of just now. I want to know how you would like the idea of keeping a boarding-house.”
“First rate,” answered Marble. “We could drive four stakes into the ground, stretch a bit of cloth over them, and name it the Marquet Eating Saloon, where shall be kept all manner of provisions, viz., whiskey, to be had at the shortest notice.” And a droll smile rested in the corners of Marbles mouth, and twinkled in his small eyes, as he ceased speaking; while Long, as the picture came vividly before his active imagination, threw back his head and laughed loud and long.
“That is not what I wanted, Hiram,” he said, soon stopping his mirth and growing sober again. “There are a great plenty of such establishments going up in all parts of the country. We need a real framed house; and, if you would plan such a one as you think you could keep properly, why, all is, we would find means to build it, and have it done right away. You shall bring your wife on to manage, and your children to inhabit it. You shall keep on being overseer. I will be a wealthy land-holder. Jointly and severally we shall be honored for inventing, or rather, for starting the great Marquet Iron Works, and, by my faith, we shall live fat.”
Then the two men separated, each to his own place; and here it may not be inapropos to describe them.
Long, who appeared to be chief director there, was tall, but rather slightly built, with a long face, intelligent-looking, dark eyes, a high, but not full brow, and thin lips, that partially disclosed a regular set of teeth.
Marble, who seemed like Long’s very right hand, was also tall, but strong and robust, with sharp, bright blue eyes, light waving brown hair, and a full white brow.