Apparently reassured to see that the two at the door were boys, the elderly man opened it a few inches.
“Good morning, Mr. Merrimac,” greeted Brad, doffing his cap.
The old man relaxed somewhat. Though appearing none too pleased to see visitors, he grudgingly opened the door a little wider.
“I guess you didn’t hear the bell at first,” Dan said pleasantly. “Or maybe it’s out of order.”
“The bell’s in good order,” Mr. Merrimac muttered. “So are my ears. I’d have come sooner only—one never knows who’s at the door. Since my butler left a week ago, I’ve had an unpleasant time of it. Only the other night—but never mind. You wanted to see me?”
“We’re here in behalf of the church building fund,” Brad explained. “Your name is on our list of prospects.”
“Seems as if my name is on every list of prospects,” the old man retorted. “Seems like every time I turn around it’s, ‘Mr. Merrimac, will you contribute five dollars for this? Mr. Merrimac, will you donate ten dollars for that?’”
Brad and Dan exchanged an uneasy glance. Obviously, their prospect was not in the best of moods. It might take super salesmanship to gain his pledge.
“May we come in for a few minutes to talk about it?” Brad requested.
“I’m busy this morning. With my butler gone, I have to prepare my own lunch, and I’m no hand at it.”