"You 're a member of the church."
"Yes" (lamely).
"And you certainly would n't deal unfairly with a neighbor on Sunday?"
"What—"
"It's thirteen minutes of ten on a Saturday night. That's pretty near Sunday, is n't it?"
"What of it?" (suspiciously).
"Remember that advertisement you inserted in the Berringdon Gazette?"
There was a silence of a minute.
"Wall," faltered the deacon rather feebly, "I thought mebbe ye wanted the farm fer a summer place. It's wuth more fer that."
"It is n't worth a cent more. You simply tried to steal two hundred dollars."