"Well," chirped the old man, "does that sound all right to you? It does to me, all right."
Grandma said, "Ayah," feebly, and wrote her name and address on a piece of paper he handed her.
"A week from tonight I'll be there, I will all right," he said, examining what she had written on the paper. "Seven o'clock. Goodbye!" He turned abruptly and walked away.
We strolled on in the opposite direction, and paused outside a real estate office. I read the placards in the window while Grandma discussed our birdlike friend.
"He's a odd critter, awful odd," she said. "But he ain't bad looking. I knew pretty plaguey well he was interested in me. Just so Hellwig don't find out, ding bust it. He'd be madder'n Fury."
"Look," I interrupted, pointing out to her one of the signs in the window. I read it aloud. "Unfinished residence. Situated on large lot. Twenty-nine thousand. Another good buy: A choice business lot, ninety thousand down."
"Thunderation, we better get out of here. This land under us is too valuable for us to be walking around on it like this."
"Beg your pardon."
It was Grandma's little admirer again. "I forgot to tell you my name. I'm Ansil J. Wagonseller. Pleased to meet you ladies, I am all right. Goodbye."
We watched him walk perkily along the sidewalk. He got into a beautiful new car that was parked on a side street near the corner.