“Have one—do.”
Mr. Walker complied, and, having completed the preliminary commonplaces, said, as he hurled the core with an energetic sweep of his arm into the ocean at the base of the little bluff on which the cottage stood:
“There is no place on the shore which quite compares with this.”
“We agree with you,” said Miss Rebecca with dogged urbanity. “Is any one of a different opinion?”
“On the contrary, I have come to make you an offer for it. It isn’t usual for real-estate men to crack up the properties they wish to purchase, but I am not afraid of doing so in this case.” He spoke buoyantly, as though he felt confident that he was in a position to carry his point.
“An offer?” said Miss Rebecca. “For our place? You know that we have no wish to sell. We have been invited several times to part with it, and declined. It was you yourself who brought the last invitation. We are still in the same frame of mind, aren’t we, Carry?”
“Yes, indeed. Where should we get another which we like so well?”
“My principal invites you to name your own figure.”
“That is very good of him, I’m sure. Who is he, by the way?”
“I don’t mind telling you; it’s your neighbor, Daniel Anderson.” David Walker smiled significantly. “He is ready to pay whatever you choose to ask.”