The banker now turned on Mrs. O’Mally.
“I’ll give you until to-morrow noon to cancel your silly negotiations with these boys and sign your entire crop over to us.”
“No signature will ye get from me at ninety cents a bushel.”
“Unless we can come to these terms we’ll sue you for breach of contract.”
“We have no contract.”
“We have a verbal understanding. And that will hold good in law.”
Mrs. O’Mally was getting mad now.
“Scoundrel!” she cried. “Get out of me house before I take a broom an’ chase ye out.”
“Try putting us out,” smarty swelled up, “and see what you get.”
“A chip of the ould block,” Mrs. O’Mally handed it to him.