“In the name of one who deserves much, our friend Donald Kennedy, I shall ask one favor.”
“Ask it.”
“That you sell me the crop of bananas on this plantation.”
“They are worthless. The storm has ruined them.”
“Not all. There is still a ship load of good ones.”
“How can I grant such a request? I am under contract to deliver these bananas to the Fruit Company.”
“No contract,” Johnny’s voice vibrated with earnestness, “stands before an act of God. The storm was an act of God. No Fruit Company’s ship will be here within ten days. By that time it will be too late.”
“You are right. Your request is granted. To-morrow I will send my men into the field.”
“By your leave,” said Johnny quickly, “I will buy them as they are in the field. I will gather and load them myself.”
The owner gave him a piercing look, then having recalled Johnny’s past experience, he said slowly: