“All right, boys, but hurry back. It is getting along towards noon.”
Reaching Mr. Finnegan’s home, the boys went to the rear, and were delighted to have him answer their knock in person.
“Good morning, and what brings you here?” he asked.
“We’ve come to ask if you want to sell one of your goats,” said Tom.
“Well, now, that all depends on how much the buyer will pay. You see, my kids are very fine ones.”
“Yes, we’ve often seen them in the yard, and they look as good as our own Billy,” agreed Harry readily.
“How much is one worth?” asked Tom, bristling with business.
“Suppose we go out to see them,” replied Mr. Finnegan, leading the way to a small shed at the back of the lot. “I’ve said I’d not sell them for less than ten dollars, but seeing it’s you boys, and your father is a friend of mine, I’ll say five.”
“Oh, dear, and we wanted two, one for each of us!” lamented Harry.
“You do? And how much money have you?”