milk."

"Lord!" said the barber, gaping over his patron's head. "Lord!"

Although very short and slight, the barber had a large face, simple,
amiable with a smirk of conceit as to the lower part; his forehead
was very large and round, as was his head, and his blue eyes were
very placid, even beautiful. The barber never laughed.

"Two quarts of cream!" said the small man. "Whew!"

"He must be rich if he takes all that cream," said the postmaster. "A
half a pint a day about breaks me, but my wife must have it for her
coffee."

Rosenstein had so far got his freedom of speech, for the barber had
never ceased operation to speak, though rather guardedly. "He must be
rich," he said. "Any man in Banbridge that buys as much as he does
from a store in the place, an' wants his bills regular every Saturday
night, has got somethin'."

"Has he paid 'em?" asked the postmaster.

"All except the last one, an' that he didn't pay because I couldn't
cash a check for five hundred and give him the balance. 'Lord, sir,'
says I, 'ef you want a check of that value cashed, you'll have to go
to John Wanamaker. That's as much as I take in Banbridge in a whole
year.' 'Well, mebbe you'll do better this year,' says he, laughing,
and goes out. He's a fine-spoken man, an' it was a lucky day for
Banbridge when he come here."

"He don't buy many postage-stamps," said the postmaster,
thoughtfully, "but he asked me if I should be able to let him have as
much as ten dollars' worth at a time, ef he wanted 'em, an' I said I
should, an' I've just ordered in more. An' he has a big mail."

The barber had been opening his mouth and catching his breath
preparatory to speaking and saying more than any of them. Now he
spoke: "That man's wuth a mighty lot of money now," said he, "but
what he's wuth now ain't nothin' to what he's goin' to be wuth some
day."

"What do you mean, John?" asked Amidon, patronizingly.

"Well, now, I'll tell you what I mean. That man, it's Cap. Carroll
what's just arraigned to Banbridge that you're all talkin' about,
ain't it?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Well, now, Cap. Carroll is agoin' to be one of them great
clapatalists, ef he ain't now," he said.

"How?"

"Well, he got holt of some stock that's goin' to bust the market and
turn Wall Street into a mill-stream in less than a year, ef it keeps
on as it has went so fur."

"What is it?" asked the small man.

The milkman sighed wearily. "Oh, slow up yer jaw, and gimme a chanc