“How much do we owe you?”
“Silas don’t know and we don’t know.”
“Then how do you expect I can pay you? It’s customary to send an invoice.”
“Not with Silas it hain’t. Silas never got introduced to an invoice. But we got the amount of stuff that was s-s-shipped, and we figgered you knew how much you was payin’ for it. ’Most gen’ally men that’s been able to git to own a factory like this know what they’re payin’ for a thing before they buy it.”
“Hum!” says the man, and he looked at Mark kind of interested. “You got some powers of observation, haven’t you?”
“That’s common s-s-sense,” says Mark.
“A good many folks don’t have common sense.... But you’re right this time. We had a contract with Silas Bugg. I’ll look it up. When did you ship those spindles?”
Mark told him.
“Your money isn’t due, then,” says the man. “We have thirty days to pay, and almost two weeks of it are left.”
“Um!” says Mark. “Git a discount for thirty days?”