"'Nuff sed. And you tell me they never had a show there?"
"Why, darn it, man! the town was only christened about a year ago."
"Then we'll confirm it and open its gates to the histrionic industry of the country. I'll have a talk with the company. But we will have to arrange about some printing."
The gleam that illumined the landlord's face at the mention of printing was a study. Handy was somewhat mystified, and he was still more surprised when the landlord, with a knowing look—a look all landlords seems to hold a patent on—bent over and said: "Leave that to me, and you'll be satisfied. We'll get the winter's supplies out of this snap. Come, let's have something." With this hospitable suggestion, both men made a flank movement in the direction of the café.
"Now, then," began Handy, "did I understand you to say you could fix the printing?"
"You did."
"How?"
"Well, I will put you wise in that direction. Will you smoke? All right. Now, then, light up an' we'll take a comfortable seat by the stove."
"Lead on, Macbeth, and—well, you know the rest of it."
Drawing up a couple of well-seasoned chairs, they both settled down for a practical business talk.