“You are impudent, Mr. Shaytop.”
“Perhaps I am, but—”
“Never mind; if you don’t want the note, you can have the money. It don’t make much difference to me, though it would be more convenient to pay the bill at another time than now. There isn’t the least need of making use of any strong language.”
“Pay me, and I won’t use any, then.”
I opened my porte-monnaie and took therefrom the roll of bills I had received from Aunt Rachel. A five hundred dollar bill was on the top, and the balance of the pile was in hundreds and fifties. I ran through the bills with professional dexterity, so that he could see the quality of them.
“I can’t make the change, Mr. Shaytop,” I replied, with cool indifference.
I glanced at him. I went up in that man’s estimation from zero to summer heat. He would have trusted me for a span every day in the week for six months. I took out a hundred dollar bill and tossed it over to him. As I suspected, he could not give me the change. He went to the counter and procured smaller bills for it, and gave me the sum coming to me. He had ceased to be in a hurry.
“If you want any more teams, Mr. Glasswood, I think I can fit you out as well as any other stable in the city,” said he, after he had put his wallet back into his pocket.
“I don’t,” I replied, curtly.