h, and you are afraid I'll lose the job."

"Too high nothing!" John sniffed, with a harsh smile. "You are so damned
low that they will make you give double security to keep you from
falling down on it. Say, Sam, you told me you was in need of money and
want to make something out of this job. Well, if you do, and want me to
go up there in charge of the brickwork, you will have to make out
another bid. I'm done with seeing you come out by the skin of your teeth
in nearly every job you bid on. When a county builds a court-house like
that they expect to pay for it."

"Why, I thought-- I thought--" Cavanaugh began.

But John broke in: "You thought a thousand dollars would cover the
ironwork. It will take two. The market reports show that steel beams
have gone out of sight. Nails are up, too, and bolts, screws, locks, and
all lines of plumbing material."

"Why, John, I thought--"

"You don't keep posted." John glanced up at the scaffold as if anxious
to get to work. "Then look at your estimate of sash, doors, blinds, and
glass. You are under the cost by seven hundred at least. And where in
God's world could you get slate at your figure? And the clock and bell
according to the requisition? Sam, you made those figures when you were
asleep."

"Then you think I could afford-- I want the job bad, my boy--do you
reckon I could land it if I raised my offer, say by fifteen hundred?"

"You will have to raise it four thousand," John said, thoughtfully.
"Think of the risk you would be running. If the slightest thing goes
crooked the official inspectors will make you tear it down and do it
over. Look at your estimate on painting," pointing with the tip of his
trowel at a line on the quivering manuscript which the contractor held
before his spectacled eyes. "You are away under on it. White lead is
booming, and oil and varnish, and you have left out stacks of small
items--sash cords, sash weights, and putty."

"Then you think this won't do?" Cavanaugh's face was turning red.

"Do? It will do if you want to present several thousand dollars to one
of the richest counties in Tennessee. Why, one of those big farmers up
there could build that house and give it to the state without hurting
himself, while you hardly own a roof over your head."

"You may be right about my figures," Cavanaugh muttered. "Say, John, I
want to get this bid off. Leave the bricklaying to Pete Long and come
over to the hotel and write it out for me."

"And l