Mr. Madge was in great haste to sign the papers and get possession of the money.
“The dates of the lease must be put in first,” said Ben. “What are they?”
“Well, let me see,” said Mr. Madge. “’Twas thirty-five years ago, and we got it ’cause ’twasn’t needed by the owners. Afterwards, ’twas made over to me by the company.”
“That would make it 1866,” said Ben. He lifted the pen. “What was the month?”
“Let me see,” the other replied, as if striving to remember. “We begun in November, I think,—yes, we drove the first pile for the foundation on the fifteenth day of November, 1866.” He brought his cane down with a thump, to emphasize the statement. “I remember the time partic’larly, ’cause ’twas in that same month that I made a fortune up in Tuolumne County. I owned the pootiest mine on the Mother Lode ’t ever you see!”
“I think you’ve told me about that before, Mr. Madge,” Ben replied as he filled in the dates. “Now, this paper gives me the sole right to work over the ground, bricks, and rubbish of the Smelting Works, until the expiration of the lease. And that will be until—” Ben waited for Mr. Madge to supply the rest of the sentence.
“Certainly it does,” the latter said. “You talk like a regular lawyer, Ben.”
“Business is business. Now, as I understand it, the lease will expire on the fifteenth of November,—that’s three months off. The Works are mine till then.”
“They’re yours until the lease expires,” replied Mr. Madge, with considerable impatience. “I’m ready to sign if you are. Let’s get through with it.”