“If I would sell it,” was his coarse rejoinder, “you, ‘Cobbler’ Horn, would not be able to buy it.”
“I am well able to buy the house, Mr. Froud,” was the quiet response.
Daniel Froud keenly scrutinized his visitor’s face.
“I believe you think you are telling the truth,” he said. “Mending pauper’s boots and shoes must be a profitable business, then?”
“I have had some money left to me,” said “Cobbler” Horn.
The interest of Daniel Froud was awakened at once.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “that is it, is it? But sit down, Mr. Horn,” and the grizzled reprobate pushed towards his visitor, who had hitherto remained standing, one of his rickety and dust-covered chairs.
“Cobbler” Horn looked doubtfully at the proffered seat, and said that he preferred to stand.
“If you are willing to sell me the house, Mr. Froud,” he said, “name your price. It is not my intention to waste your time.”
Daniel Froud still pondered. It was no longer a question whether he should sell “Cobbler” Horn the house: he was beginning already to consider how much he should ask for it.