“Yes,” says Dwight. “I’m always glad to help a friend out. Silas tells me you have quite a little stock in the warehouse. Well, I don’t need anything just now, and prices are ’way down and the market is loaded up, but just to be a good fellow I’ll take what you’ve got.”
Silas was beaming and happy. He looked like he thought he had done a fine stroke of business.
“Ship ’em to the same address?” says he.
“Yes,” says Dwight.
“I’ll go and git in a car,” says Silas.
Mark looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t grin or speak sharp or do anything unpleasant. He wouldn’t have hurt Silas’s feelings for a lot. It wasn’t Silas’s fault he hadn’t any head for business, and he was doing his best. But Mark just says, sort of hesitating-like:
“Jest a m-m-minute, Silas. What p-price was Mr. Dwight offerin’?”
“Why,” says Silas, “we didn’t say nothin’ about price! I know Dwight’ll send us a check for whatever he’s warranted in payin’.”
“I know he would,” says Mark, “but s-s-somehow I’d rather know jest what he’s goin’ to p-pay before we ship. What f-figger do you calc’late you kin give, Mr. Dwight?”
“Why, it’s like this,” says Dwight. “Retail prices is ’way down, and everybody’s loaded up with stock. I can’t offer as much as I’d like to. You better just send them along, and I’ll give you the best price I can when I dispose of the goods.”