At this point the collie came in from the kitchen, and put his chin on Marvin’s knee.
“Governor, do you insist that five dollars is the minimum?”
Agricola barked assent, but was instantly sorry for it. He had not expected that the divinity to whom he belonged would say, “Ahnemo-sheesh!” The dog cringed and made for the door.
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him he was a bad dog.”
“I hope he swims over to my island and stays there.”
“Your island?”
“Well, the one I expect to rent. How much will it cost me?”
“Fifty cents a day.”
“But that doesn’t assure me sole possession. I want those ten acres for myself and my friend the governor. I’m willing to pay nine dollars a day, and if you will come over and call on us each day. I’ll make it ten.”