Mr. Atkins fidgeted in his chair for a minute, unable to deny the force of what Harrington had said.
“Well, Mr. Harrington,” he replied, “I admit that your plan is feasible enough, and not unfair, certainly. But there is one difficulty in the way. Mr. Lafitte is unwilling to lose this man. His value is not more than twelve hundred dollars, but I am convinced that Mr. Lafitte would not take five thousand for him.”
“Mr. Atkins, we will give him five thousand,” said Harrington.
“But I tell you he wouldn’t take it,” replied the merchant.
“Well, then, we will give him ten thousand,” said Harrington.
Mr. Atkins stared at him.
“Pshaw! Mr. Harrington, you surely wouldn’t be such a fool as to give that sum for a worthless nigger,” he contemptuously answered.
Harrington’s blood grew hot, but externally he kept cool as ice.
“My dear sir,” he said, affably, “we will not mention the negro. It is Mrs. Eastman who is concerned. Your niece will willingly give ten thousand dollars out of her fortune to spare her mother’s feelings. And surely you would not deny her the privilege of comforting her mother, even were this a mere matter of prejudice.”
Mr. Atkins really felt cornered. He could not but see the various solid advantages of this proposition. But Mr. Atkins had considerable of the mule in his composition.