The man
stepped down to the sidewalk and looked up at the signs with a
critical air.
"Wai'," he answered, slowly, "I ain't a-goin' to deny that you've done
your work well--yes a sight better'n any of the lazy rascals I've been
hiring, an' if you could be depended on now, I d'know but what I
might's well give the work to you as to anybody else. Of course, as
you say, 'tain't my place to do servant's work like brass cleanin'."
"Of course not," assented Theo, promptly.
"But then," the man went on, "if I should speak for ye t' the janitors
of the other buildings 'long here, 'n' get ye a big line o' custom,
'course I sh'ld have a right t' expect a--er--a sort o' commission on
the profits, so to speak?"
"Oh!" replied Theodore, rather blankly. "What _is_ a commission,
anyhow?"
The man explained.
"And how much of a commission would you expect?" questioned the boy.
The janitor made a mental calculation. Here on this one building, the
boy had cleaned seven signs. That made a dollar and seventy-five cents
that he had earned in one morning. Of course he would not often get so
much out of one building, but the man saw that there were good
possibilities in this line of work.
"S'pose we say ten per cent.--ten cents out of every dollar?" he
ventured, with a keen glance at the boy.
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