"How much will you give then?"
"How much will you take?"
"Well, now, I like to help the young, so I'll take a dollar a week."
"Not from me," said Tode, promptly.
"Do hear the fellow! As generous as I've been to him, too. Well, come, now, its your turn to make an offer."
"I'll give you fifty cents a week, and pay you every Saturday night at seven o'clock."
"It's a bargain," exclaimed the man, striking his hand down on the counter, till the dirty glasses jingled. There was a further attempt to discover the intention of the new firm, but Tode made his escape the moment the bargain was concluded, and went off vigorously to work to get the old barrel out of his premises. Then he departed, and presently made his appearance again with an old dry-goods box, which he brought on a wheelbarrow, and deposited squarely on the stone. Off again, and back with boards, hammer and nails. And then ensued a vigorous pounding, which, when it was finished, was productive of three neat fitting shelves inside the dry-goods box.
"Jolly," he said, eyeing his work triumphantly and his fingers ruefully, "I'm glad I own a hotel instead of a carpenter's shop. I wonder now which I did pound the oftenest, them nails or my thumb? Ain't my shelves some though? So much got along with; now for my next move. I wonder where the old lady lives what's going to lend her stove for my coffee? Must be somewhere along here, because I couldn't go far away from my place of business after it, specially if all my waiters should happen to be out when the rush comes. I may as well start off and hunt her up."
Just next to the oyster-saloon was a little old yellow house. Thither Tode bent his steps, and knocked boldly at the door. No reply.
"Not at home," he said, shaking his head as he peeped in at the curtainless window. "No use of talking about you then. You won't do, 'cause you see my old lady must be at home. I can't be having her run off just at the busiest time."