"Maybe we could raise some," said George, bravely. "Wonder how he'd sell it?"
"Dear enough, I presume; but we might ask him."
The upshot of this conversation was that, after school, George Farnsworth persuaded his father to let him and Tom Dermot, feeling pretty important, you may be sure, take his horse and sleigh to go over and talk with Mr. Hardaker upon the subject of selling "George Washington" standing.
"Thirty dollars," said the gruff old fellow, who was very angry at the remarks which had been made at his expense, and who had vowed that he would cut the tree down now, whatever happened.
"I won't leave the plaguey thing up for a cent less than thirty dollars."
"I'm afraid we can't raise a sum like that between now and day after to-morrow," said George, looking at Tom in some dismay.
"Then I'll cut it down," roared Mr. Hardaker; and seeing what a rage he was in, the boys discreetly took their leave. They amused themselves on the way home by singing, as loud as they possibly could,
"Woodman, spare that tree,
Touch not a single bough."
"Father," said George, when they reached home, "he says thirty dollars—not a cent less."
Mr. Farnsworth gave a long whistle.