“Not a minute,” says Skip.
“But, Mr. Skip, think about Mr. Smalley. He’s hurt and in the hospital. Think about Mrs. Smalley. This store is all they’ve got. Nobody knows what’ll h-happen to ’em if you don’t give us time.” He was saying this loud so everybody in the store could hear.
Skip looked around uneasy and says: “There hain’t no use hollerin’. This is private talk.”
“Maybe it is,” says Mark, but he didn’t lower his voice. “But what’re you g-goin’ to do? Like as not the Smalleys would have to go to the p-poor-farm or somethin’. You’ll git your money, Mr. Skip, if you’ll let us have a little time.”
“Not a minute,” says Skip, beginning to get mad.
“Then,” says Mark, “you want to hurt Mr. Smalley in the hospital, and fix it so his wife hasn’t got a cent to buy a meal? Do you want to do that, Mr. Skip?”
“I hain’t got nothin’ to do with that. The money’s due me and I need it. If you hain’t got it to pay I’m goin’ to take the stock.”
“You won’t take part and wait f-for the rest?”
“No,” says Skip.
“All right, then,” says Mark. “Friday’s the day, I expect. It’s perty hard on the Smalleys, though.”