“I don’t want any lawsuit, Skeeter. It takes a lot of time, and it takes a lot of money which has to be paid to the lawyers and the courts. We’ll fix this up between ourselves.”
“Dat suits me,” Skeeter told him.
“I’ll have your automobile repaired, put in perfect condition, painted and polished and fixed like new. Besides that I’ll give you one hundred dollars.”
With these words, he laid the money out on his knee, one hundred dollars in one-dollar bills.
Skeeter sat up, reached for the money, and thrust it under his pillow on the bed.
“Whar do I sign?” he grinned.
The smiling commissioner indicated the dotted line, Skeeter inscribed his name with a flourish, and before that gentleman was out of the yard Skeeter was kicking off the bed covers, preparing to dress and go out.
“Dis here is my lucky day,” he announced to his immortal soul.
About this time, Orren Randolph Gaitskill, returning from Sunday-school, met Little Bit who had been waiting for him at the corner for an hour. The two boys played around the streets for a while, then wandered aimlessly down the alley and into a vacant place in the rear of the Gaitskill store. There they found something which interested them very much.
It was a discarded advertisement.