“Yes, sir, he offered to sell it and I said you’d give him five dollars for it and take it away to-day. Don’t you think it’s worth five dollars?”
“Of course it is! Hang it, Tom, if you had a dozen pumps, I’ll bet you’d be a millionaire by the end of the year! I don’t see, though, why he’d want to sell it for five dollars. It would be worth that much for old iron.”
“I guess he bought another one, sir. Anyway, he said he was through with it. He seemed to think five dollars wasn’t very much for it.”
“I should say it wasn’t!”
“But he took it,” added Tom. “So I’m going to bring it over here and put it in the basement again, if you don’t mind. Maybe I’ll be able to sell it again some day.”
“Sell it again! Why, Tom, I expect you’ll get rich on that old pump!”
“I’ll be about eighteen dollars behind to-night, sir.”
“What? Didn’t I hand you over a sixty-dollar check only a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes, sir,” Tom laughed, “but you must remember that I’d already paid sixty dollars for it.”
“That’s so,” acknowledged Mr. Cummings. “Well, send it along, Tom, and I’ll look after it when it comes. And I’ll see if I can’t find a buyer for you.”