"Seven? Why, only a minute or two ago you offered me ten dollars!"
"I know it, sir," said Dick coolly. "You will recall that you declined that offer, so I am at liberty to make a new offer."
"You'll have to make a better——-"
"If you decline seven dollars," Dick smiled pleasantly, "my next offer, if I make one, will not go above six."
Mr. Titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school boy would stand by that threat.
"Seven dollars doesn't land me clear for the season," complained Newbegin Titmouse. "I've spent nine dollars already in advertising the wagon."
"Then, if you don't take my seven dollars," Prescott proposed, "you'll be out quite a bit of money, Mr. Titmouse. I see my car coming in the distance. So good——-"
"I'll take ten!" called Mr. Titmouse, as Dick once more turned away.
"Six," smiled Dick significantly. "But I haven't time to stay here and dicker, sir. Good——-"
"Hold on!" fairly screamed Mr. Titmouse, as Dick, nodding at him, started to run to the corner.