Clearly Mrs. Rosnosky had obtained all she desired. Motioning to a boy in the rear, she stepped to the clerk’s desk, paid her money, and started to remove her goods by the aid of her helper, paying no attention to the cries and movement about her. We followed the machine as it left the building, and stood on the opposite side of the street, as the boy and the woman filled an old express cart with their purchases.
Last of all they put in the medley of apparatus on its wooden stand. As they placed it on the wagon, I lounged across the street. “Want to sell that?” I asked, pointing to the apparatus.
“Not for anything you want to pay, young man,” came back the answer, to my surprise.
“I’ll give you five dollars for it,” I said.
Mrs. Rosnosky vouchsafed no reply to my offer, and mounted the seat.
Tom, who had heard the conversation, came hurrying across. “What do you want for it?” he asked.
“Five thousand dollars,” replied Mrs. Rosnosky, clucking to her horse. Tom seized the bridle.
“Nonsense, woman. You got that for nothing, and you ask five thousand dollars. We’re willing to give you a fair price, but that’s robbery.”
Mrs. Rosnosky looked at us keenly. “If you really want to talk business,” she said, “say so. That’s worth five thousand dollars.” She seized a cylinder, with a sudden gesture, ripping it from its place. She pointed to a band of silvery metal round it. “That’s platinum,” she said. “There’s five thousand dollars in that stuff for me. If you want it, you take it now or not at all. I know what platinum is worth.”
Dorothy, who had crossed the street and stood beside us, broke in. “Take it, Tom,” and Tom obeyed, with a nod.