“How much would you keep him for if we took him?”
“Well, feed’s high nowadays,” replied the man thoughtfully. “But—say a dollar and a half a week.”
Pinky whistled and looked doubtfully at his friend. Jonesie smiled compassionately on the owner of the dog.
“We weren’t thinking of having him fed on steak and mushrooms,” he explained patiently. “Just dog biscuit and a bone now and then would do, I guess.”
“Well, say a dollar, then.”
“Say four dollars a month,” returned Jonesie, “and we pay the end of the month.”
“All right, son. What might your name happen to be?”
“Jones.”
“That so? Thought likely it was Isaacs.”