"Expense, is it? Expense, Miss Sweetheart! Ha, Ha!" He slapped his
pocket. "Ask your friend Mr. Anderson down at the Bank (not that he will
tell you!) whether Butcher Donnan is a warm man or not? _He_ did not
retire on four bare walls and a pocket-handkerchief of front-garden like
some I could tell you of. Cynthia, you shall have all the brass pans you
want, and as for the front shop--well, there won't be the like of it,
not as far as Dumfries! We shall have a van too, gold and blue!"
Butcher Donnan was all on fire now, and when Nipper came in he clapped
him on the shoulder, crying that he had better look sharp. He, Butcher
Donnan, was going to set up such a shop as never was seen in Edam, and
people would never be wanting "fresh meat" any more, but live on pies
and shortcake and sweets for ever and ever.
At this Nipper looked no little relieved, and even listened to the
details with a secret satisfaction.
"Father," he said, "the shop down town can run itself the first day of
the opening of yours. I'm coming up to see you face the public in your
new nursing togs!"
"You're an impudent young jackanapes," said his father, clenching his
fists, "and if it were not that you have to stick to business and pay me
the money you owe me, I would thrash you on the spot, old as you are!"
"Oh, let Nipper alone," said I, as cheerfully as I could, "he has the
sweet tooth. I know it well, and I will wager he will yet be one of your
best customers!"
"He will bring his money along with him then every time," growled his
father. "And now I am off to see Mr. Hetherington, the architect. We
must get things ship-shape!"
"But," cried his wife, "you have never tasted your tea!"
"Oh, bother my tea!" said Butcher Donnan, flouncing out, having fallen a
victim to Hugh John's dangerous imagination. But he looked in again, his
topper hat of Do-Nothing Pride already exchanged for the cap of Edam
Commerce.
"Tell that young gentleman of yours," he said, "that, if things turn out
well, he is always welcome at our shop, eh, Cynthia? And nothing to pay!
And you, Miss Sweetheart, I hope to live long enough to bake your
bride's-cake!"
"There he goes!" murmured his wife, "in a week Donnan will think that he
has made every single thing in the shop, from the brass weights on the
counter to the specimen birthday-cake in the window!"
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