“Cheap land, is there?” inquired Mrs. Gwynne with a certain eagerness in her voice. “Indeed I should have thought that that beautiful land would be very dear.”
“Why, bless your heart, no. I know good land going for six—seven—eight—ten dollars an acre. Ten dollars is high for good farm lands; for cattle runs four dollars is good. No, there's lots of good land lying around out of doors there. If these people around here could get their heads up long enough from grubbing in the muck they wouldn't stay here over night. They'd be hittin' the trail for the west, you bet.”
Mrs. Gwynne turned her honest eyes upon him. “Mr. Sleighter, I want to ask your advice. I feel I can rely upon you [“Durn it all, she's gettin' her work in all right,” thought Mr. Sleighter to himself], and I am getting quite anxious in the matter. You see, my husband is determined to leave this place. He wishes to try something else. Indeed, he must try something else. We must make a living, Mr. Sleighter.” Mrs. Gwynne's voice became hurried and anxious. “We were delighted last night by your description of that wonderful country in the West, and the children especially. I have been wondering if we might venture to try a small farm in that country—quite a small farm. We have a little money to invest. I thought I might be bold enough to ask you. I know your judgment would be good and I felt somehow that we could trust you. I hope I am not taking a liberty, but somehow I feel that you are not a stranger.”
“No, ma'am, certainly not,” said Mr. Sleighter in a loud voice, his hope of securing “quick action on that deal” growing dim.
“Do you happen to know any farm—a small farm—which we might be able to buy? We hope to receive four thousand dollars for this place. I feel that it is worth a good deal more, but there are not many buyers about here. Then, of course, perhaps we value our place too highly. Then by your kind help we have got something out of the business—twelve hundred and fifty dollars I think Mr. Gwynne said. We are most grateful to you for that, Mr. Sleighter.” Her eyes beamed on him in a most disconcerting way. “And so after our obligations here are met we might have about forty-five hundred dollars clear. Could we do anything with that?”
“I donno, I donno,” said Mr. Sleighter quickly and rising from his chair, “I will think it over. I have got to go now.”
At this moment Mr. Gwynne came into the room. “Oh, I am glad you are not gone, Mr. Sleighter. I have just told Mr. Martin that I cannot accept his offer.”
“Cannot accept, Michael!” said Mrs. Gwynne, dismay in her voice and in her eyes.
“I believe you said your offer was good until six, Mr. Sleighter?”
“Oh, I say, Gwynne, let's get out, let's get over to the store. It's kind of hot here, and I've got to go. Come on over and we'll clean up.” Without a farewell word to either of them Mr. Sleighter passed rapidly from the room.