“Know how they work?”
“Can’t say I d-do.”
“They’re sim’lar to a mortgage on land,” says Skip, “only they hain’t on land, but on chattels—which is things sich as furniture and animals—and bazars.”
“Oh,” says Mark, “bazars, eh?”
“Yes,” says Skip. “You give a chattel mortgage when you got to have money, and you put up your furniture or your animals—or your bazar—to secure the loan. That means if the loan hain’t paid the man with the chattel mortgage can take your furniture or your animals or your—bazar—instead of his money.”
“Um,” says Mark; “looks like a d-d-dangerous kind of a deal, don’t it?”
“I’m a-goin’ to show you how dangerous it is,” says Skip, squinting at Mark out of his mean, narrow little eyes. “I’ve got one of them on this Bazar.”
I almost flopped over on the floor, but Mark didn’t turn a hair. He was as startled as I was, I’ll bet, but he didn’t let on but what he was more pleased about it than anything else.
“Oh,” says he, “you got one of ’em, eh? How’d you come to git it?”
“Bought it,” says Skip. “Did you know this Bazar was pretty near busted?”