“Gee, if we could! I suppose, though, he makes a lot more at the machine shop than we could afford to pay him.”
“I suppose so. Would you ask him?”
“Not yet. Let’s wait till we’ve been running a full month, Will, and then see just how we stand. Are you keeping a strict account of everything?”
“Of course I am!” replied Willard indignantly. “I’ve got every cent set down.”
“That’s the ticket. Then at the end of the month we—we’ll strike a balance and see where we stand. Then we’ll know how much we can afford to offer Jimmy. I don’t believe he makes much more than twenty a week, Will.”
“Neither do we—yet,” replied Willard dryly. “I guess we will, though. Father was saying the other evening that there’s a heap more travel in winter than there is in summer. So if we can make, say, twenty-five a week now we ought to make more in the winter, Tom.”
“Sure. Well, I guess it’s almost supper time. Will you come over this evening and see Jimmy fix the car?”
“Yes, I’ll be around. Why don’t you stay and have supper with us, though?”
“Can’t; I’ve got some things to do. You come over. Say, maybe we can sort of find out from Jimmy how much he’s getting now, eh? You—you might kind of get him talking, you know, Will.”
“I like your cheek!” laughed Willard. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”