That sort of scared me and I nudged Mark, but he shook his head for me to be quiet.
“Two hundred dollars is the price, Mr. Skip. That is final. You can take it or leave it. My time, I may say, is of value. You have used considerable of it. Two hundred dollars. Is it yes or no?”
Skip thought a moment, and wriggled like there was a burr inside his shirt, and groaned, but he came around.
“It’s a skin game,” says he, “and a hold-up, but I’ll pay it.”
“All right,” says Mr. Sturgis. “Pay it, then.”
That was the shortest and most businesslike speech I ever heard him make. He pulled the lease out of his pocket and waited. Skip, still muttering and mumbling and groaning, took out his check-book and wrote a check. Then Mr. Sturgis signed the lease over to him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Skip,” says Mr. Sturgis. “I hope you will ponder over this transaction. You will find material for thought in it, I am certain. In Wicksville we believe in competition, in fair competition. We believe in doing by others as we would like to have others do by us. An old saying, Mr. Skip. In this instance you have had done to you what you have done to others.... It is not, I believe I am safe in saying, particularly pleasant. Good afternoon, Mr. Skip.”
Skip grabbed the lease and plunged out of the door and down the stairs. As soon as it was safe Mark and I came out. I was almost busted open with curiosity.
“Say, Mark,” says I, “how in tunket did you think up that scheme? How’d you ever hear about leases and sich? And law?”
“I d-dun’no’s I know much about ’em,” says Mark. “When I went to see Mr. Mogford I wasn’t more’n half sure what a lease was. It all come from readin’ the papers. There was a big lawsuit in Detroit about leases, and I read accounts of it. It told consid’able. Then I asked around some. Perty soon I come to the conclusion there was somethin’ to it.... And that’s all.”