“I think I speak for the majority here,” said old Mr. Bromley. “We had no such understanding; we assumed that the area of the lots to be taken was that given on the maps of the company.”
“Certainly, certainly!” cried Mrs. Groarty.
“I think, Mrs. Groarty,” replied Mr. Dibble, the lawyer, “there has been an unfortunate accident, owing to your unfamiliarity with the oil-laws of the State. The provisions of the statute are clear.”
“Oh, yes, of course!” snapped Mrs. Groarty. “We don’t need to be told what you would say, seeing as you represent a corner lot, and the corner lots will get twice as much money!”
“Not so bad as that, Mrs. Groarty. Don’t forget that your own lot will run to the centre of Las Robles Boulevard, which is eighty feet wide.”
“Yes, but your lot will run to the centre of the side street also—”
“Yes, Mrs. Groarty, but El Centro Avenue is only sixty feet wide.”
“What it means is just this, you make your lots ninety-five feet lots, instead of sixty-five feet lots, as we all thought when we give up and consented to let the big lots have a bigger share.”
“And you were going to let us sign that!” shouted Mr. Hank. “You were sitting still and working that swindle on us!”
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” boomed the voice of Mr. Golighty, the conciliator.