“Zadok will help you. Not that Marcus Tidd needs help, but the brain and the experience of Zadok Biggs are at your disposal. Zadok will look about and Zadok will set his vast intelligence to work. Then an opportunity may present itself. Opportunities are marvelous things, and you are quick to grasp them. A hint, and you see your chance. Be patient, be watchful, and Zadok will give the hint.” With that he went into the house to see Mr. Tidd and Mark’s mother and we went to work. That afternoon a man came up into the mill and we saw him go over and talk to Silas Doolittle. After a while both of them came over to us, and Silas said the man was a Mr. Dwight that was in the woodenware business in the city and an old customer of his. “I sold him most of my bowls, and he handled a good sight of drumsticks and dumb-bells and tenpins for me. Seems like I never had very good luck sellin’ such things, and Mr. Dwight he used to come over every little while, jest like he’s done to-day, and kind of take things off my hands.” “Yes,” says Dwight. “I’m always glad to help a friend out. Silas tells me you have quite a little stock in the warehouse. Well, I don’t need anything just now, and prices are ’way down and the market is loaded up, but just to be a good fellow I’ll take what you’ve got.” Silas was beaming and happy. He looked like he thought he had done a fine stroke of business. “Ship ’em to the same address?” says he. “Yes,” says Dwight. “I’ll go and git in a car,” says Silas. Mark looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t grin or speak sharp or do anything unpleasant. He wouldn’t have hurt Silas’s feelings for a lot. It wasn’t Silas’s fault he hadn’t any head for business, and he was doing his best. But Mark just says, sort of hesitating-like: “Jest a m-m-minute, Silas. What p-price was Mr. Dwight offerin’?” “Why,” says Silas, “we didn’t say nothin’ about price! I know Dwight’ll send us a check for whatever he’s warranted in payin’.” “I know he would,” says Mark, “but s-s-somehow I’d rather know jest what he’s goin’ to p-pay before we ship. What f-figger do you calc’late you kin give, Mr. Dwight?” “Why, it’s like this,” says Dwight. “Retail prices is ’way down, and everybody’s loaded up with stock. I can’t offer as much as I’d like to. You better just send them along, and I’ll give you the best price I can when I dispose of the goods.” “Somehow that d-d-don’t sound jest right to me,” says Mark. “It’s kind of uncertain. I think we ought to know jest what you’ll p-p-pay.” “Well,” says Dwight, “I couldn’t offer you as much to-day as I might be able to get for you. I’ve got to be safe. I couldn’t set a price and then sell at a loss. You’d get more by waiting.” “Maybe so,” says Mark, “but I’d rather you m-made an offer.” Dwight sort of hesitated a little and hemmed and hawed, but pretty soon he told Mark what he could pay for each kind of goods. “Um!...” says Mark. “That the b-best you can do?”