“Oh yes; I would.  I—­”

“Well, I’ll try to fix it.  You can see for yourself; boats ain’t leaving every minute just to please Bryff.  And it’s the busy season.  Bunches of rah-rah boys wanting to cross, and Canadians wanting to get back to England, and Jews beating it to Poland—­to sling bombs at the Czar, I guess.  And lemme tell you, them Jews is all right.  They’re willing to pay for a man’s time and trouble in getting ’em fixed up, and so—­”

With dignity Mr. William Wrenn stated, “Of course I’ll be glad to—­uh—­make it worth your while.”

“I thought you was a gentleman.  Hey, Al! Al!” An underfed boy with few teeth, dusty and grown out of his trousers, appeared.  “Clear off a chair for the gentleman.  Stick that valise on top my desk....  Sit down, Mr. Wrenn.  You see, it’s like this:  I’ll tell you in confidence, you understand.  This letter from Bryff ain’t worth the paper it’s written on.  He ain’t got any right to be sending out men for cattle-boats.  Me, I’m running that.  I deal direct with all the Boston and Portland lines.  If you don’t believe it just go out in the back room and ask any of the cattlemen out there.”

“Yes, I see,” Mr. Wrenn observed, as though he were ill, and toed an old almanac about the floor.  “Uh—­Mr.—­Trubiggs, is it?”

“Yump.  Yump, my boy.  Trubiggs.  Tru by name and true by nature.  Heh?”

This last was said quite without conviction.  It was evidently a joke which had come down from earlier years.  Mr. Wrenn ignored it and declared, as stoutly as he could: 

“You see, Mr. Trubiggs, I’d be willing to pay you—­”

“I’ll tell you just how it is, Mr. Wrenn.  I ain’t one of these Sheeny employment bureaus; I’m an American; I like to look out for Americans.  Even if you didn’t come to me first I’ll watch out for your interests, same’s if they was mine.  Now, do you want to get fixed up with a nice fast boat that leaves Portland next Saturday, just a couple of days’ wait?”

“Oh yes, I do, Mr. Trubiggs.”

“Well, my list is really full—­men waiting, too—­but if it ’d be worth five dollars to you to—­”

“Here’s the five dollars.”

The shipping-agent was disgusted.  He had estimated from Mr. Wrenn’s cheap sweater-jacket and tennis-shoes that he would be able to squeeze out only three or four dollars, and here he might have made ten.  More in sorrow than in anger: 

“Of course you understand I may have a lot of trouble working you in on the next boat, you coming as late as this.  Course five dollars is less ’n what I usually get.”  He contemptuously tossed the bill on his desk.  “If you want me to slip a little something extra to the agents—­”

Mr. Wrenn was too head-achy to be customarily timid.  “Let’s see that.  Did I give you only five dollars?” Receiving the bill, he folded it with much primness, tucked it into the pocket of his shirt, and remarked: