“Not enough? Call it seven-fifty then.”
“It’s too much! Why, a dollar—or maybe, a dollar and a half——”
The stranger laughed loudly. “Go ahead, then! But you’ll never be a millionaire if you do business that way. When any one offers you five dollars, young fellow, it’s poor business to take less.”
Toby smiled as he put the handle in the fly-wheel. “Seems to me, sir,” he said, “it’s just as poor business to offer five dollars when the job’s only worth a dollar and a half!”
“Well, that’s right, too!” The man chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I’m not a millionaire yet. Want me to do anything in the way of steering?”
“No, sir, thanks. I’ll steer from here.”
The Turnover backed away from the pier, turned and crept out of the narrow channel, across the cove and into the harbor. Half-way to the entrance they passed a surprised Arnold at the wheel of the Frolic and Toby called across to him that he would be back about a quarter past nine. Arnold nodded and waved and the white launch and the gray swept past each other. The passenger came forward and made himself comfortable opposite Toby as the Turnover pointed her nose across the bay. In the course of the conversation that ensued above the clatter of the little engine Toby learned that Mr. Whitney was a contractor and that he was going to Johnstown to consult with a man about building a cottage there.
“I’m doing some work at Southampton,” he explained, “and it’s going to be awkward for a while getting from one place to the other. Guess I’ll have to buy me one of these things, eh? Unless—look here, want to arrange to take me back and forth now and then? I’ll pay you three dollars the round trip.”
“Yes, sir, I’d be glad to,” agreed Toby eagerly. “When would you want to go again?”
“I don’t know that yet. This little tub seems pretty seaworthy. Run her a good deal, have you?”