“You ain’t de idee got, lady,” he said. “I know dere vas a fire. I foller de fires, lady.”
“You follow the fires?” returned Lyddy, in wonder.
“Yes, lady. Don’dt you vant to sell de house-holdt furnishings? I pay de highest mar-r-ket brice for ’em. Yes, lady–I pay cash.”
“Why–why—”
“You vas nodt insured–yes?”
“No,” admitted Lyddy.
“Den I bay you cash for de goots undt you go undt puy new–ain’dt idt?”
But Lyddy wasn’t thinking of buying new furniture–not at all. She opened the door wider.
“Come in and look,” she invited. “What will you pay?”
“Clodings, too?” he asked, shrewdly.