Part 41 (1/2)
”How long you've been at it?”
”Just begun.”
”Who's your boss?”
”I haven't any.”
”You ain't runnin' the stand yourself, be you?” asked Jim, in surprise.
”Yes.”
”Where'd you borrow the stamps?”
”Of my mother,” said Paul. ”Can't I sell you a necktie this morning?”
”Not much,” said Jim, laughing at the joke. ”I've got my trunks stuffed full of 'em at home, but I don't wear 'em only Sundays. Do you make much money?”
”I expect to do pretty well.”
”What made you give up sellin' prize packages?” asked Jim slyly.
”Customers like you,” answered Paul.
Jim laughed.
”You didn't catch me that time you lost your basket,” he said.
”That was a mean trick,” said Paul, indignantly.
”You don't want to hire me to sell for you, do you?”
”That's where you're right. I don't.”
”I'd like to go into the business.”
”You'd better open a second-hand clothing store,” suggested Paul, glancing at his companion's ragged attire.
”Maybe I will,” said Jim with a grin, ”if you'll buy of me.”
”I don't like the style,” said Paul. ”Who's your tailor?”
”He lives round in Chatham street. Say, can't you lend a fellow a couple of s.h.i.+llin' to buy some breakfast?”
”Have you done any work to-day?”
”No.”
”Then you can't expect to eat if you don't work.”
”I didn't have no money to start with.”