“I do mean it, Mr. Murch!” rejoined Mrs. Derwall with some spirit. “What’s more, I’ll stake the house on it. If you can throw three shovelfuls into that furnace without dropping one coal or once hitting the side of the door, I’ll take another cheque from you.”
The lecturer to ladies smiled.
“That’s a sporting proposition, Mrs. Derwall. But as evidence that I have no wish to get your house from you again under false pretences, I will thank you for your courtesy and wish you a very good morning.”
“Come, come, Mr. Murch!” cried Mrs. Derwall derisively. “You don’t back out like that. I want to see how well you acquit yourself. Here’s the shovel. And if you fulfill the terms it is yours—with the house.”
He took the shovel which she handed him. He looked at her a moment, to give her time to retract. He got out his fountain pen again and started to rewrite his cheque.
“Seventeen thousand, did we say?” he inquired.
Mrs. Derwall chuckled on her soap box.
“I don’t take bribes, Mr. Murch. Why not make it fifteen? Cheques are cheaper than houses.”
He made it fifteen, and he presented it to Mrs. Derwall. Then he turned to the furnace. And he put in two shovels full of coal so quickly and so neatly that Mrs. Derwall saw her house slipping from under her feet. But before filling the shovel the third time Mr. Murch faced her.
“By the way,” he said. “Do you happen to know a Mrs. Hopp?”