"Yes, I know; that's why he needs me," said Duncan brazenly. In his soul he remarked "O Lord!" in a tone of awe; his colossal impudence dazed even himself. "But don't you think he could get back some of the trade if the store was stocked up?"
"No doubt about that at all," Sperry averred; "he'd get the biggest part of it."
"You think so?"
"Sure of it. You see, everybody round here likes Sam, and Sothern and Lee have always been outsiders. They'd swing to this shop in a minute, just on account of that. Fact is, I wasted a lot of talk on our firm a couple of years ago, trying to make our people give him some credit, but they couldn't see it. He owed them a bill then that was so old it had grown whiskers."
"And still owes it, I presume?"
"You bet he still owes it. Always will. It's so small that it ain't worth while suing for——"
"Look here, Mr. Sperry, how much is this bill with the whiskers?"
"About fifty dollars, I think," said the travelling man, fumbling for his wallet. "I'm supposed to ask for payment every time I strike town, you know, so I always have it with me; but I haven't had the heart to say a word to Sam for a good long time.... Here it is."
Duncan studied carefully the memorandum: "To Mdse, as per bill rendered, $47.85." "I wonder..." he murmured.
"Eh?" said Sperry.