“I suppose,” says he, “that you think it’s a fair proposition ... for us.”
Smarty stiffened, his cheeks puffing out.
“Fair?” he shot back angrily. “It’s a blamed sight fairer than you deserve. If I had my way—”
“Forrest,” came blandly from the banker, “unless you can handle this matter without losing your temper your father or I shall step in.”
Poppy picked up the conversation.
“I take it for granted,” says he, “that you know what you’re getting for your money.”
“We’ve checked over your stock, if that’s what you mean.”
“What do you figure the stock is worth?”
“Why ask us?” evaded the kid. “You own it.”
“I was just wondering,” says Poppy, “if your estimate is as high as ours.”