"Boy or girl?"
"A girl."
"Bad. Girls always an expense. Dress, piano, parties, and d--d nonsense.
Boys, you put 'em into harness and work 'em till they're willing to
_eat_ their wild oats; he! he!"
The eyebrow flourished over the jocose idea; the stony eye glittered a
moment like a revolving light, and then relapsed into darkness.
"However, I have but one, and I think I can make her comfortable."
"Yes, my boy, quite comfortable. Let me see, I owe you ten thousand. How
does the new account stand?"
"Here are the figures, taken from Tonsor's book," said Fletcher.
"Seventy-nine thousand eight hundred and forty-three. Ten per cent. to
me is seven thousand nine hundred and eighty-four."
"A big pile of money, Fletcher."
"Yours, you mean? Yes, seventy thousand and odd is a big pile."
"Yours,--I meant yours."
"Why, yes," replied Fletcher, indifferently, "a good fair sum, for a man
that hadn't any before."
"Don't you think, now, Fletcher, that the ten thousand pays you for all
you've done? Isn't it enough for a month or two's work?"
"I think I am paid when I get what was agreed on," replied Fletcher,
stoutly.
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