“Well, my friend,” he said cheerily; “what’s the damage?”
“Why, you’re acting so handsomely about it, I want to make the bill as reasonable as I can,” was the reply.
“Of course you do—that’s the right way.”
“The frames aren’t much broken,” explained the man. “About all there is to do is to replace the glass.”
“Yes, but there’s a heap of it,” said Dave.
“We buy the panes by the gross. I’m willing to do the setting and puttying myself. I think twenty dollars will cover everything.”
Dave took out his pocket book, selected some bank bills, and handed them to the man. He heard an ominous growl from old Grimshaw behind him, and caught a “S’t! S’t! S’t!” from the exasperated Hiram. Dave, however, had his own ideas as to disposing of the matter in hand.
“If you find it’s more, you know where to see me,” said Dave to the gardener.
“Say, you’re an easy one,” observed Grimshaw, with a look of disgust on his face.
“It’s a shame to let those vandals go scot free,” scolded Hiram.