"If you pay good wages, I'd like to speak
for a place."
"I pay all I get myself," said Dick. "How's business with you?"
"So so. Why don't you call round, some time?"
"All my evenin's is devoted to literatoor and science," said Dick.
"Thank you all the same."
"Where do you hang out?" inquired Travis, in choice language,
addressing Fosdick.
"At Henderson's hat and cap store, on Broadway."
"I'll look in upon you some time when I want a tile," said Travis.
"I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends."
"I'll be as reasonable as I can," said Fosdick, not very cordially;
for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that
such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his.
However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway
store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and
encouraging the boys to be social.
"You haven't any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?"
he asked.
"No," said Fosdick; "have you lost one?"
"Yes," said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. "I left it on my
bureau a day or two since. I've missed one or two other little
matters. Bridget don't look to me any too honest. Likely she's
got 'em."
"What are you goin' to do about it?" said Dick.
"I'll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I'll kick up a
row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?"
"No," said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without
violating the truth.
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