"Much obliged, sir; but it wouldn't help us any, and it's almost
time for the car," was Prescott's answer.

"What's your best offer? Make it!" urged Mr. Titmouse restlessly.

"Seven dollars for the wagon for the month of August," Prescott
replied.

"Seven? Why, only a minute or two ago you offered me ten dollars!"

"I know it, sir," said Dick coolly. "You will recall that you
declined that offer, so I am at liberty to make a new offer."

"You'll have to make a better-----"

"If you decline seven dollars," Dick smiled pleasantly, "my next
offer, if I make one, will not go above six."

Mr. Titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school
boy would stand by that threat.

"Seven dollars doesn't land me clear for the season," complained
Newbegin Titmouse. "I've spent nine dollars already in advertising
the wagon."

"Then, if you don't take my seven dollars," Prescott proposed,
"you'll be out quite a bit of money, Mr. Titmouse. I see my car
coming in the distance. So good-----"

"I'll take ten!" called Mr. Titmouse, as Dick once more turned