“So I called them up.  Jim Green was in jail for petty larceny.  Softy Meadows was in bed with a broken leg.  Tully Scott would do it for three fifty.  So I gave him the number and told him to do it that afternoon without fail.

“Pretty soon Mr. Nesbitt came home.  ‘How about that rubbish?’

“‘I got Tully Scott to do it for three fifty.’

“He fairly tore his hair.  ’Three fifty!  Tully Scott is the biggest highway robber in town, and everybody knows it!  Why didn’t you get the mayor and be done with it?  Three fifty!  Great Scott!  Three fifty!  You call his lordship Tully Scott up and ask him if he’ll haul that rubbish for a dollar and a half, and if he won’t you can call off the deal.’

“I called him up, quietly, but inwardly raging.

“‘Will you haul that rubbish for a dollar and a half?’

“‘No,’ he drawled through his nose, ’I won’t haul no rubbish for no dollar and a half, and you can tell old Skinflint I said so.’

“He hung up.  So did I.

“‘What did he say?’

“I thought the nasal inflection made it more forceful, so I said, ’No,
I won’t haul no rubbish for no dollar and a half, and you can tell old
Skinflint I said so.’

“Mr. Orchard laughed, and Mr. Nesbitt got red.

“‘Call up Ben Moore and see if he can do it.’

“I looked him straight in the eye.  ‘Nothing doing,’ I said, with dignity.  ‘If you want any more garbage haulers, you can get them.’

“I sat down to the typewriter.  Mr. Orchard nearly shut himself up in a big law book in his effort to keep from meeting anybody’s eye.  But Nesbitt went to the phone and called Ben Moore.  Ben Moore had a four days’ job on his hands.  Then he called Jim Green, and Softy Meadows, and finally in despair called the only one left.  John Knox,—­nice orthodox name, my dear.  John Knox would do it for the modest sum of five dollars, and not a—­well, I’ll spare you the details, but he wouldn’t do it for a cent less.  Nesbitt raved, and Nesbitt swore, but John Knox, while he may not be a pillar in the church, certainly stood like a rock.  Nesbitt could pay it or lose his tenant.  He paid.

“Mr. Orchard got up and put on his hat.  ’Miss Connie wants some flowers and some candy and an ice-cream soda, my boy, and I want some cigars, and a coca cola.  It’s on you.  Will you come along and pay the bill, or will you give us the money?’

“‘I guess it will be cheaper to come along,’ said Nesbitt, looking bashfully at me, for I was very haughty.  But I put on my hat, and it cost him just one dollar and ninety cents to square himself.

“But they both like me.  In fact, Mr. Orchard suggested that I marry him so old Nesbitt would have to stop roaring at me, but I tell him honestly that of the two evils I prefer the roaring.