feels like he's got a
right to make something out of a public building like that one. He says
you insisted on a bigger bid and he is between two fires. He wants to
abide by your judgment and still he is afraid you may have your sights
too high. You see, he says some of the biggest contractors will send in
bids and that they will cut under him because they are bigger buyers of
material."

"Sam's off there," John said, thoughtfully. "He can borrow all the money
he needs for a job like that and he can get material as cheap as any of
them. The main item is brick, and that is made right here in town, and
the stone is got out and cut here, too."

"You may be right," the woman said. "But to tell you the truth, John,
Sam is afraid you are too young to decide on a matter as big as this
deal. Several men he knows have advised him to make as low a bid as
possible."

"Well, if he cuts under the estimates I've made in those papers," John
returned, "he'll lose money or barely get out whole. I want to see him
make something in his old age. I'm tired of seeing folks ride a free
horse to death. He may be underbid on this, and if he loses the job
he'll curse me out, but I'm willing to risk it." John turned away.
"Just hand 'em to him," he said, from the little sagging gate, "and tell
him that is my final estimate. If he wants to change it he may do so.
I'm acting on my best judgment."

Half an hour later, as John was on the scaffold at work, Cavanaugh
crossed the street and slowly ascended the ladders and runways till he
stood on the narrow platform at the young mason's side. He held a long
envelop which had been stamped and addressed in his fat hand. John saw
him, but, being busy cutting a brick with his trowel and fitting into a
mortar-filled niche a bat of exactly the right size, he did not pause or
speak. It was his way, and had so long been his way that Cavanaugh had
become used to it.

"Hey, hey! Get a move on you down there!" John shouted. "This mort' is
getting dry!"

"Hold up a minute, John!" the contractor said. "My wife handed me the
papers. I wrote the letter and stamped it and put in the bid exactly as
you had it and was on the way to the post-office with it when I met
Renfro going in the bank by the side door. You know he expects to lend
me the money if it goes through--my bid, I mean--and he asked me what I
was going to do. I told him, and he wanted to look over the bid. I let
him, and he looked serious. He said he