“All right then, he had better do it,” was Andrew Benning’s retort, and he stalked out without another word.
But our hero had not reckoned on the plot the rivals had hatched out. On going to dinner he learned that his father had just received a note from John Peterson, which ran as follows:
“Mr. Thomas Hardy,
“Dear Sir: I have thought over the matter of buying your store out and have come to the conclusion that the best I can offer you is sixty per cent. of the regular wholesale value of the stock, and fifty dollars for all the fixtures. As the place is run down I do not consider that the good will is worth figuring in the transaction. This offer is open for one week. Yours ob’t’ly,
“John Peterson.”
“He has dropped to the very figures that Andrew Benning offered,” said Frank, in dismay.
“I believe they are in league with each other,” sighed Mr. Hardy. “They know they have me down and that I cannot help myself.”
“Perhaps we can sell the goods elsewhere, father.”
“Possibly, but it will cost money to transport the goods, and few people want to buy goods that they consider are second-hand.”
“Supposing I try to sell the goods to Mr. Fardale, of Porthaven?”