It was a
comfortable farmhouse, white painted and agreeable to look upon, but the
pleasure of the view was ruined for Crane and Keith by reason of a bulky
figure standing on the porch in conversation with a woman.
"Baines!" ejaculated Crane. It sounded like a swear word as he said it.
The three rushed the piazza.
"Madam," said Crane, not deigning to recognize Scattergood's presence,
"you own a tract of timber--fifteen thousand acres. We hear it is for
sale. We want to buy it."
"This gentleman was just making me an offer for it," she said, pointing
to Scattergood.
"We raise his offer twenty-five cents an acre," said Crane, and drew
from his-pocket a huge roll of bills--it being his idea of the
psychology of women that the sight of actual money would have a
favorable effect.
"That makes two dollars an acre," said she, and looked at Scattergood.
"Two and a quarter," said he.
"Two and a half," roared Crane.
"Two seventy-five," said Scattergood. "Three dollars."
"Three ten," said Scattergood.
"Three and a quarter" said Crane. He glared at Scattergood. "If you want
it worse than that," he shouted, "why, confound you, you can have it!"
"I don't," said Scattergood, placidly.
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