“We needn't go into that now, I suppose,” said Mr. Gwynne.
“No, I guess I am buttin' in--a thing I don't often do--but I am off my stride to-night anyway, and I am doin' what I never did in all my life before. I guess it was them kids of yours and your missis. I know it ain't my business, but what are you goin' to do with yourself?”
“I don't know yet,” replied Mr. Gwynne, declining to be confidential.
“Not goin' into business, I hope. You ain't got the parts. Some people ain't got 'em, and you ain't. Goin' to farm?”
“No, I think not. The fact is I'm about selling my farm.”
“Yes, I had an offer to-day which I am thinking of accepting.”
“An offer, eh, from a feller named Martin, I suppose?”
“I don't know. I just figgered. Offered you about a hundred dollars, eh?”
“No; I wish he had. It's worth a hundred with the house and buildings--they are good buildings.”
“Say, I don't like to butt in on any man's business, but is the price a secret?”
“Oh, no; he offers four thousand, half cash.”
“Four thousand for everything, it's not enough but there are not many buyers in this neighbourhood.”
“Say, there's nothing rash about that feller. When do you close?”
“Must close to-morrow night. He has a chance of another place.”
“Oh, he has, eh? Big rush on, eh? Well, don't you close until I see you some time to-morrow, partner.”
Mr. Sleighter scented another salvage deal, his keen eyes gleamed a bit, the firm lips were pressed a little more closely together.
“And say,” he said, turning back, “I don't wonder you can't do business. I couldn't do anything myself with a missis like yours. I couldn't get any smooth work over with her lookin' at me like that, durned if I could. Well, good-night; see you to-morrow.”
Mr. Sleighter spent the early hours of the following day among the farmers with whom his salvage deal had brought him into contact. The wrecker's instinct was strong in him, and besides he regarded with abhorrence the tactics of Mr. Martin and welcomed an opportunity to beat that gentleman at his own game. He could easily outbid the Martin offer and still buy the farm at a low price. As a result of his inquiries he had made up his mind that the land was worth at the very least eighty dollars an acre and the buildings at least two thousand more. Five thousand would be a ridiculously low figure and six thousand not extravagantly high for both buildings and farm. The farm with the store and machine business attached might offer a fair opening to his son, who was already weary of school and anxious to engage in business for himself.