“He says his best figure is $2.60 and $2.30, cash down,” he said in a low tone. “What shall we do?”
“Take it, by all means. That isn’t so bad,” said Carl, anxiously.
“Yes, take it—take it!” Alice begged. “We mustn’t lose the sale.”
Bob looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, and then an expression of determination crossed his face. He turned back to the telephone.
“Sorry—can’t do it!” he said, firmly. “We will take $2.70 and $2.40, but that’s positively our last word. We’re thinking of shipping to Montreal.”
Alice turned pale, and clutched Bob’s arm in remonstrance, but he paid no attention to her.
“No,” he said into the telephone, “I’m not trying to drive any hard bargain, Mr. Brown. But there’s scarcely any comb-honey this year, and prices are going up. Shall we ship? All right. That will be satisfactory. We can ship to-morrow or the day after. Good-by!”
He hung up the telephone and made a wild leap into the air.
“Victory!” he exclaimed. “We get $2.70 and $2.40, cash on delivery. About twenty cents a dozen more than we’d counted on. It was the mention of Montreal that fetched them, for they were keen to get the honey. We’re saved!”
“Frenzied finance!” said Carl, who had been jotting down some figures on a scrap of paper. “But it comes to $390, and with the $200 we’ve got we’ll be able to make our payment all right. Let’s get that honey shipped at once.”