“This is a very generous offer, everything considered,” says he in a peculiarly steady voice. His eyes, too, were peculiar. Sort of deep and dangerous-like. “For your own good,” he added, “I would urge its immediate acceptance.”
I got up.
“No,” I further shook my head, backing toward the door. “I won’t sign the paper unless Poppy says so. I’ll try and locate him right away. I—I think it will be all right, Mr. Pennykorn. I want to sign it. And I think he’ll tell me to go ahead. Just as soon as I get word from him I’ll let you know.”
As I was going out I met young smarty.
“Had to come to time, huh?” he sneered.
I didn’t say anything. But I was glad all of a sudden, as I shot a black look at him, that I hadn’t signed the paper. However, that feeling was short lived. For I realized what would happen to us if we didn’t sign. They weren’t through with us. Mr. Pennykorn’s actions had said so as plain as words. He was giving us a last chance. And, bu-lieve me, I wasn’t going to let that chance get away from me.
Telling Tom what was in the wind, I lit out for the post office. But the expected letter wasn’t there. However, a telegram was handed to me shortly before four o’clock.
Sold ten gallons to Chicago grocer. Will be home to-night at eight-thirty with order.
Poppy.
Ten gallons! Some order. I was surprised that Poppy had mentioned it in the telegram. Maybe, though, I figured out, this was just his way of breaking the news to me that his selling trip had been a fizzle.