"You mean that old chest of drawers in the settin'-room?" scorned
Susan openly.
"Yes." Daniel Burton's lips twitched a little.
"But will he PAY anything for 'em? Mr. Burton, you can't get nothin', hardly, for second-hand furniture. My mother had a stove an' a real nice bedstead, an' a red-plush parlor set, an' she sold 'em. But she didn't get anything—not hardly anything, for 'em; an' they was 'most new, some of 'em, too."
"That's the trouble, Susan—they were too new, probably," laughed the man. "It's because these are old, very old, that he wants them, I suspect.
"An' he'll really pay MONEY for 'em?" Plainly Susan still had her doubts.
"He certainly will. I'd be almost ashamed to tell you HOW much he'll pay, Susan," smiled the man. "It seemed to me sheer robbery on my part. But he assures me they are very valuable, and that he's more than delighted to have them even at that price."
"Lan' sakes! An' when I'd been worryin' an' worryin' so about the money," sighed Susan; "an' now to have it fall plump into your lap like that. It jest shows you not to hunt for bridges till you get your feet wet, don't it? An' he's goin' jest next week?"
"Yes. The doctor and his daughter start Tuesday."
"You don't mean that girl Dorothy's goin' too?" Susan had almost bounced out of her chair.
"Why, yes, Dr. Stewart SAID she was. What's the matter?"