“Oh, Nelson—I—I don't know what to do about it. You see Mr. Mayhew says—”
“But I say it's all right,” Floyd broke in, as he laid his hand softly on her shoulder. “Go down in front and buy what you need to run on. I'll assume the risk, if there is any.”
Mayhew turned suddenly; his face wore a fierce frown and his thick lip shook.
“Do you mean to say, Nelson, that you are going to step in and—”
“Step in nothing!” Floyd said, calmly. “I hope I won't have to remind you, sir, of our clearly written agreement of partnership, in which it is plainly stated that I may use my judgment in regard to customers whenever I wish.”
“You'll ruin us—you'll break us all to smash, if you do this sort of thing,” Mayhew panted. “It will upset our whole system.”
“I don't agree with you, sir,” Floyd answered, tartly, “but we won't argue about it. If you don't intend to abide by our agreement, then say so and we will part company.”
Mayhew stared in alarm for a moment, then he said:
“There's no use talking about parting. I only want to kind of hold you in check. You get your sympathies stirred up and make plunges sometimes when you ought to act with a clear, impartial head. You say the crop looks well; then it's all right. Go ahead, Mrs. Stark. Anything Nelson does is agreeable to me.”
“Well, it's mighty good of you both,” the old woman said, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. “But I won't buy anything to-day. I'll ride out to the farm as quick as I can and tell Peter the good news. He's mighty nigh out of his senses about it.”