“What do you think he would charge?” gasped Joyce awaiting the answer as if her very life depended upon it. It seemed as though she just couldn’t bear to lose that little house! It seemed as though it had just been made for her need, and she found her heart praying, “Oh, heavenly Father, please make it possible, please make it possible!”
“Oh, he wouldn’t charge you much ef you didn’t go too fur. But I don’t think you ken git enny land. It’s all took up about here.”
“How much time will you give me?” asked Joyce impatiently, anxiety growing in her face.
“Well, we oughtta be pullin’ out o’ here in about a nour,” said the older man. “The truck don’t leave fur a nour an’ a quarter. We’ll say a nour an’ ten minutes. That oughtta give you time.”
“Oh!” gasped Joyce and flew down the street looking about her on either side, and leaving the men gaping after her.
“Well, all I gotta say is,” said Tom after gazing for some minutes, “she’s some new kind of a nut! Do you reckon to wait fer her to come back, er shall I go on bustin’ her up?”
The older man dropped down comfortably on the grass and took out his pipe. “A bargain’s a bargain, Tom,” he said cupping his hands around the match, “I allus keeps my contrac’s.”
“H’m!” said Tom, dropping stiffly beside him, “But sposen she don’t come back?”
“She’ll come back,” said the other.
“But sposen she can’t find no land?”