up here longer than just about anybody, and he has lots of good ideas.”
“Is he an honest man, Miss Mona, as far as you know?”
“Oh, of course he is!”
“Well, since you recommend him, I will certainly take him into consideration as a confidant,” said Mr. Crosley, wheezing. “But for the timebeing, Miss Mona, I hope you won’t tell a living soul what I have revealed to you today.”
“Of course I won’t,” said Mona.
“Uncle Brick?”
The Brick looked up from his Friday Dinner Special. Mona stood by his seat, biting her lip. He reached out and tousled her hair. “Hi di ho, sweetheart. What’s doing?”
“I have this friend, see?” Mona plumped down beside him. “And he has a problem? Actually it’s not really a problem, on account of he’s had some really amazing good luck, only . . . well, he’s had good luck but he sort of can’t use it, if you know what I mean?”
“Can’t say I do, m’dear,” said the Brick, reaching for his mug. He drained half a pint in one gulp and wiped his mustache. “What kind of good luck?”
“Well, see, he’s this prospector . . .” Mona twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers. The Brick grunted. He raised his eyes and saw at least a dozen shabby prospectors, seated here and there, who had been hunched over their Friday Dinner Specials shoveling hot food down but now had lifted their heads to listen surreptitiously.
“A prospector, huh?”
“Yes. He didn’t want me to tell anybody, but I thought—well, you know a lot and I thought maybe you’d know what he ought to do—see, he’s found this claim where there are all these diamonds? I saw ’em myself. But, the thing is . . . it’s that nice Mr. Crosley. And he isn’t well.”
“He isn’t, is he?” The Brick resumed eating, glancing up now and then to watch the spectators to the conversation.
“No, you know how thin and pale he looks. And the claim is in a tough place to mine. And he doesn’t have the equipment for it anyhow. And he wants to go back to Luna, only he hasn’t got the money for his ticket.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So he was thinking, maybe he could sell the claim to somebody who would offer him what it’s worth, and I’m sure it’s worth a lot because, well, you should have seen the diamonds that were there! I dug one out myself.”
“Got it with you?”
“Oh, no. It was his. I gave it back to him and he left it there. Anyhow, he’s still trying to make up his mind what to do, and he asked me not to tell anybody, so I haven’t except for you. but I thought maybe you might know somebody honest among the Haulers who maybe was strong enough to mine the diamonds and could buy out Mr. Crosley’s claim.”
“Yeah. Well, Mona, sweetheart, I’ll be honest: the Haulers may be a teensy bit unstable, but I don’t think there’s any of ’em mad enough to take up diamond prospecting.” The Brick raised shrewd red eyes and surveyed the room, where all present were wolfing down their food at an even faster speed than previously.
“Oh.” Mona pouted. “Poor Mr. Crosley. What’s he going to do?”
The Brick patted her hand genially. “Don’t you worry about your Mr. Crosley. Old Uncle Brick has a feeling he’ll do just fine by himself. You wait and see.”
“Okay. You want your pudding now?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Mona rose and went to the kitchen for a dish of treacle pudding. The Brick sat and stroked his beard, watching as a dozen miners threw down their spoons and headed for the airlock, nearly falling over one another in their haste to make an inconspicuous exit.
Two days later Mr. Crosley walked into the Empress, seeming even more feeble than he had the last time he’d been in. He took a seat at a table against the far wall, his back to it, and propped himself up in his chair as though it was an effort to stay upright; but he managed a smile for Mona, when she hurried to his table.
“Hi, Mr. Crosley! Are you all right?”
“Well
“Is he an honest man, Miss Mona, as far as you know?”
“Oh, of course he is!”
“Well, since you recommend him, I will certainly take him into consideration as a confidant,” said Mr. Crosley, wheezing. “But for the timebeing, Miss Mona, I hope you won’t tell a living soul what I have revealed to you today.”
“Of course I won’t,” said Mona.
“Uncle Brick?”
The Brick looked up from his Friday Dinner Special. Mona stood by his seat, biting her lip. He reached out and tousled her hair. “Hi di ho, sweetheart. What’s doing?”
“I have this friend, see?” Mona plumped down beside him. “And he has a problem? Actually it’s not really a problem, on account of he’s had some really amazing good luck, only . . . well, he’s had good luck but he sort of can’t use it, if you know what I mean?”
“Can’t say I do, m’dear,” said the Brick, reaching for his mug. He drained half a pint in one gulp and wiped his mustache. “What kind of good luck?”
“Well, see, he’s this prospector . . .” Mona twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers. The Brick grunted. He raised his eyes and saw at least a dozen shabby prospectors, seated here and there, who had been hunched over their Friday Dinner Specials shoveling hot food down but now had lifted their heads to listen surreptitiously.
“A prospector, huh?”
“Yes. He didn’t want me to tell anybody, but I thought—well, you know a lot and I thought maybe you’d know what he ought to do—see, he’s found this claim where there are all these diamonds? I saw ’em myself. But, the thing is . . . it’s that nice Mr. Crosley. And he isn’t well.”
“He isn’t, is he?” The Brick resumed eating, glancing up now and then to watch the spectators to the conversation.
“No, you know how thin and pale he looks. And the claim is in a tough place to mine. And he doesn’t have the equipment for it anyhow. And he wants to go back to Luna, only he hasn’t got the money for his ticket.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So he was thinking, maybe he could sell the claim to somebody who would offer him what it’s worth, and I’m sure it’s worth a lot because, well, you should have seen the diamonds that were there! I dug one out myself.”
“Got it with you?”
“Oh, no. It was his. I gave it back to him and he left it there. Anyhow, he’s still trying to make up his mind what to do, and he asked me not to tell anybody, so I haven’t except for you. but I thought maybe you might know somebody honest among the Haulers who maybe was strong enough to mine the diamonds and could buy out Mr. Crosley’s claim.”
“Yeah. Well, Mona, sweetheart, I’ll be honest: the Haulers may be a teensy bit unstable, but I don’t think there’s any of ’em mad enough to take up diamond prospecting.” The Brick raised shrewd red eyes and surveyed the room, where all present were wolfing down their food at an even faster speed than previously.
“Oh.” Mona pouted. “Poor Mr. Crosley. What’s he going to do?”
The Brick patted her hand genially. “Don’t you worry about your Mr. Crosley. Old Uncle Brick has a feeling he’ll do just fine by himself. You wait and see.”
“Okay. You want your pudding now?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Mona rose and went to the kitchen for a dish of treacle pudding. The Brick sat and stroked his beard, watching as a dozen miners threw down their spoons and headed for the airlock, nearly falling over one another in their haste to make an inconspicuous exit.
Two days later Mr. Crosley walked into the Empress, seeming even more feeble than he had the last time he’d been in. He took a seat at a table against the far wall, his back to it, and propped himself up in his chair as though it was an effort to stay upright; but he managed a smile for Mona, when she hurried to his table.
“Hi, Mr. Crosley! Are you all right?”
“Well
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