“It’s about that lease, Mr. Sturgis, the one you h-helped me get the other day.”
“To be sure. I recall the circumstance. And now, may I ask, what do you desire concerning this so-called lease?”
“I want to shoot it off,” says Mark.
“What?” says Mr. Sturgis. “You want—what do you want to do to it? Shoot it off, did you say?”
“Yes, sir. Don’t you remember sayin’ it was a regular gun pointed at Jehoshaphat P. Skip’s head? Well, sir, I want to sh-shoot it off.”
“Hum! Figure of speech, eh? I did not follow you. I did not recall my own metaphor. Good. Your wit is nimble, my young friend.”
“We’ve g-got to have some money—a chunk of it,” says Mark. “We had quite a bit in the bank, but we had to send it to Plunk’s father for an operation. I th-thought maybe we could use that lease to raise quite a bit—maybe more’n a hundred dollars.”
“How? What method did you contemplate?” says Mr. Sturgis.
At this I broke into the talk. “What’s this all about?” I asked. “I’m hearin’ about leases and sich-like, but I don’t know what leases nor nothin’.”
“Remember the d-day I went into the country?” says Mark.