It may be," says Brown, offhand, "that he thought he might marry some
rich girl. There's some fool fathers, judging by the papers, that are
willing to sell their daughters for the proper kind of tag on a package
like him."
Old man Dillaway kind of made a face, as if he'd ate something that
tasted bad, but he didn't speak.
"And so," says Peter, "Spaghetti and I came to the Old Home together,
he to shave for twelve per, and I to set traps, etcetera. That's a good
trap," he says, nodding, "I bought it in Boston. I had the teeth filed
down, but the man that sold it said 'twould hold a horse. I left the
ladder by his grace's window, thinking he might find it handy after he'd
seen his friend of other days, particularly as the back door was locked.
"And now," goes on Brown, short and sharp, "let's talk business. Count,"
he says, "you are set back on the books about sixty odd for old home
comforts. We'll cut off half of that and charge it to advertising. You
draw well, as the man said about the pipe. But the other thirty you'll
have to work out. You used to shave like a bird. I'll give you twelve
dollars a week to chip in with Macaroni here and barber the boarders."
But Dillaway looked anxious.
"Look here, Brown," he says, "I wouldn't do that. I'll pay his board
bill and his traveling expenses if he clears out this minute. It seems
tough to set him shaving after he's been such a big gun around here.
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