“Then I agree to accept it now,” said Phonny, “and that gives me the first claim.”
Beechnut did not answer to this proposal, but went on harnessing the horse. When the horse was all ready, he gathered up the reins and stood a moment, just before getting into the wagon, in a thoughtful attitude.
“Well now, Phonny,” said he, “here is a great law question to be settled, whether you or Stuyvesant has the best right to the contract. Go and ask Stuyvesant to come to the shop-door.”
So Beechnut got into the wagon and drove out of the shed, and along the yard, until he came to the shop-door, and there he stopped. Phonny and Stuyvesant were standing in front of the door.
“Stuyvesant,” said Beechnut, “here is a perplexing case. Phonny wants to have the care of the hen-house on the same terms I offered it to you. You did not tell me whether you would take it or not.”
“No,” said Stuyvesant, “I was going to tell you that I would take it, but if Phonny wants it, I am willing to give it up to him.”
“And you, Phonny,” said Beechnut, “are willing, I suppose, if Stuyvesant wants it, to give it up to him?”
“Why—yes,” said Phonny. In saying this, however, Phonny seemed to speak quite reluctantly and doubtfully.
“That’s right,” said Beechnut. “Each of you is willing to give up to the other. But now before we can tell on which side the giving up is to be, we must first decide on which side the right is. So that you see we have got the quarrel into a very pretty shape now. The question is, which of you can have the pleasure and privilege of giving up to the other, instead of which shall be compelled to give up against his will. So you see it is now a very pleasant sort of a quarrel.”
“No,” said Phonny, “it is not any such thing. A quarrel is not pleasant, ever.”