"You have got all the flour in the market in your hands," he began.
"I know it," I answered.
"Yes, I suppose that you do," he said, dryly; "now, I want the flour that I sold you, and which still remains in my store. What is the figure, sir?"
Here was a man that I could trade with, and not resort to art. He was never schooled in diplomacy, and his blunt nature rejected all subterfuge. I saw that he was willing to allow me to make all that I could, knowing that he would have done the same, had he been situated as I was.
"Fifty-five pounds per ton," I answered.
"I'll take it at that figure," he replied, promptly; "come with me to the store, and I will settle the amount immediately."
I did not require to be invited a second time; and after I had received my money, I calculated how many more tons I should have to dispose of before I could call my funds whole.
In the midst of my calculation, I was disturbed by a message from Messrs. Hennetit & Co. They desired to see me immediately, and requested to know when it would suit my convenience to call on them. I replied, in half an hour; and when I was leaving the store to keep my appointment, my blunt friend stopped me.
"Hennetit & Co.," he said, "have received a number of orders for flour, and they must fill them. Don't sell for less than what I paid you; perhaps you can get more."
I thanked my acquaintance for his hint, and acted on it. When Mr. Hennetit talked about purchasing a few barrels, I put him off by replying that it was hardly worth while to retail them, and that I had received proposals for all that I held, and that I probably should accept.