"Sho! Well, if you could get the seventeen dollars you'd throw off
the three cents, wouldn't you?"

"No-o."

"You wouldn't? Why not?"

Jed pried a crookedly driven nail out again and substituted a fresh
one.

"Can't afford to," he drawled. "That's the part I'll probably
get."

"Guess you're right. Who's this John Holway?"

"Eh. . . . Why, when he ordered the mills of me last summer he was
president of the Funny Novelty Company up there to Manchester."

"Good Lord! Well, I admire his nerve. How did you come to sell
these--er--Funny folks, in the first place?"

Mr. Winslow looked surprised.

"Why, they wrote and sent an order," he replied.

"Did, eh? And you didn't think of lookin' 'em up to see whether
they was good for anything or good for nothin'? Just sailed in and
hurried off the stuff, I presume likely?"