I smiled. “It's very kind of you, Sim, to be willing to go to so much trouble on my account,” I observed. “I didn't know there was such disinterested kindness in Denboro.”
Sim seemed a bit put out. “Why,” he stammered, “I—I—of course I presumed likely you'd be willin' to pay me a little commission—or—or—somethin'. I thought I might be a sort of—er—agent for you. I've handled consider'ble real estate in my time—and—you see what I mean, don't you?”
“Yes,” I said, drily; “I see. Well, Sim, if I decide to engage an agent I'll let you know. Good morning.”
“But, hold on, Ros! I—”
I did not “hold on.” I walked across the road and entered the bank. Alvin Baker met me in the vestibule. He seized my hand and shook it violently.
“I declare,” he exclaimed, “it does me good to shake hands with a feller that's got the grit you have. It does so! We're all proud of you.”
“Much obliged, Alvin, I'm sure. But why?”
He winked and nudged me with his elbow.
“You know why, all right,” he whispered. “Wouldn't sell him the land, would you? Tell me: Did he make you a real bid for it? Lute as much as said he did.”
For a person who had told nothing, Lute seemed to have “as much as said” a good many things. I shook my head.