"Sho! Well, if you could get the seventeen dollars you'd throw off the three cents, wouldn't you?"
"No-o."
"You wouldn't? Why not?"
Jed pried a crookedly driven nail out again and substituted a fresh one.
"Can't afford to," he drawled. "That's the part I'll probably get."
"Guess you're right. Who's this John Holway?"
"Eh. . . . Why, when he ordered the mills of me last summer he was president of the Funny Novelty Company up there to Manchester."
"Good Lord! Well, I admire his nerve. How did you come to sell these—er—Funny folks, in the first place?"
Mr. Winslow looked surprised.
"Why, they wrote and sent an order," he replied.