“Get me George K. Nunnely on the phone, Elsie.”
Bertha sat back in her chair thinking, until the bell rang and she heard Nunnely’s cold, well-modulated voice saying, “Hello, Mrs. Cool. What is it, please?”
Bertha said, “You’re rushing me a little.”
“Just what do you mean by that, Mrs. Cool?”
“I mean that I’m not certain I can get the money ready by four o’clock this afternoon. I may need another twenty-four hours.”
“Impossible.”
“I’m putting an outside limit on it,” Bertha said encouragingly. “I’m hoping to get the cash before four o’clock this afternoon, but I may need another twenty-four hours.”
“Mrs. Cool, your proposition was spot cash.”
“It still is.”
“That’s not my definition of spot cash.”