“Yes, we rent the room,” said Gus.
“Ah, so; but I mean—” The newcomer turned partly toward Bill who drew near at the moment and had overheard the question.
“You mean we charge those who work here? Yes, for the use of our tools and machines, but not for any hints and advice we can give. The school shop is at your mercy, too, without charge, as you know.” Bill also sized up his questioner with a certain curiosity and was pleasantly impressed.
“I do not like the school shop. There are so very many con—con—what you call it? Yes, conflicting. I should like—prefer—choose to come here, if I may do so.”
“Come along. You keep account of your own time here, and you can pay us when you like. You can get your own materials, or we can get them for you at the prices we pay. We bought up some old pieces of furniture cheap to cut up for bases and cabinets—enough walnut to make a hundred. No charge for it. Help yourself.”
“You are, I wish to say it, veree liber—kind—generous. It is too little that you pay—charge, I mean it. I will ask for your materials and I will commence—begin—start, eh? on to-morrow. Will that be satisfy?”
“Any old time. If we are not here, walk in and go to it. Check your hours up on this pad, see? What is your name?”
“Anthony Sabaste it is. I am called Tony by most. My country it is Italy, but American I now am. My father is of the city—living there. Here, now, I will pay you five dollars on acc——”
“No, you won’t,” said Bill. “We’d rather have you pay after a while and you can see that the work goes all right. Here, I’ll show you the ropes.”
“Ropes? But I care not to make—build a ship. It is a radio——”