“Well, but, Mr. Bolt, are you really in earnest? Surely this is quite out of your line?” “How can it be out of my line if it pays? I've bought and sold sheep, and wool, and land, and water, and houses, and tents, and old clothes, and coffee, and tobacco, and cabs. And swopped--my eye, how I have swopped! I've swopped a housemaid under articles for a pew in the church, and a milch cow for a whale that wasn't even killed yet; I paid for the chance. I'm at all in the ring, and devilish bad to beat. Here goes--high, low, Jack, and the game.” “Did you ever deal in small beer?” asked Henry, satirically. “No,” said Bolt, innocently. “But I would in a minute if I saw clear to the nimble shilling. Well, will you come on to Hillsborough and settle this? I've got the refusal for twenty-four hours, I consider.” “Oh, if you think so, I will go on to Hillsborough. But you said you were going to see your parents, after twenty years' absence and silence.” “So I am; but they can keep; what signifies a day or two more after twenty years?” He added, rather severely, as one whose superior age entitled him to play the monitor, “Young man, I never make a toil of a pleasure.” “No more do I. But how does that apply to visiting your parents?” “If I was to neglect business to gratify my feelings, I should be grizzling all the time; and wouldn't that be making a toil of a pleasure?” Henry could only grin in reply to this beautiful piece of reasoning; and that same afternoon the pair were in Hillsborough, and Mr. Bolt, under Henry's guidance, inspected the grinding of heavy saws, both long and circular. He noted, at Henry's request, the heavy, dirty labor. He then mounted to the studio, and there Henry lectured on his models, and showed them working. Bolt took it all in, his eye flashed, and then he put on, for the first time, the coldness of the practiced dealer. “It would take a good deal of money to work this properly,” said he, shaking his head. “It has taken a good deal of brains to invent it.” “No doubt, no doubt. Well, if you want me to join you, it must be on suitable terms. Money is tight.” “Well, propose your own terms.” “That's not my way. I'll think it over before I put my hand to paper. Give me till to-morrow.” “Certainly.” On this Mr. Bolt went off as if he had been shot. He returned next day, and laid before Henry an agreement drawn by the sharpest attorney in Hillsborough, and written in a clerk's hand. “There,” said he, briskly, “you sign that, and I'll make my mark, and at it we go.” “Stop a bit,” said Henry. “You've been to a lawyer, have you? Then I must go to one, too; fair play's a jewel.” Bolt looked disappointed; but the next moment he affected cheerfulness, and said, “That is fair. Take it to your lawyer directly.” “I will,” said Henry; but, instead of a lawyer, he took it to his friend Dr. Amboyne, told him all about Ben Bolt, and begged his advice on the agreement. “Ought he to have the lion's share like this?”