“You agreed to wait!”
“I can't recall it, Jacob. If I did it's quite slipped my memory. Would you like to examine the mortgage? I have it by me.”
“I suppose you intend to buy in the farm,” said Benson scornfully.
“Very probably I shall make a bid on it—why shouldn't I, Jacob?”
“Mr. Stark, I ask it as a personal favour that you abide by my recollection of our conversation,” said Benson, choking down his rage.
“No, Jacob, I shall have to act according to my own memory in the matter. This terrible, wicked war is ruining us all, and the closing of the shops has made so many men idle; why, they have been without work eight months now; I don't know what our merchants will do; it's a calamity for them. And Tom Benson was always such a hard-headed fellow, a really excellent man of business; who could have foreseen he would go as he did!”
“When I turned over that mortgage—” began Benson.
“Why speak of it again, Jacob? Really the circumstance should be a lesson for us both.”
“I want to know what I am to expect?”
“Haven't I made that clear, Jacob?” and the old banker looked at Benson over the tops of his steel-bowed spectacles, while a dry smile parted his lips.