"Here!" he shouted. "Hold on! Where are you going?"

"I can't see that there is any use of our talking further."

"No use? Why--There! there! sit down. It's none of my business how rich
you are, and I beg your pardon. Sit down. Sit down, man, I tell you!"

I sat down, reluctantly. He threw his cigar, which had gone out, into
the fireplace and lit another.

"Say," he said, "you surprise me, Paine. What do you mean by saying you
won't sell that land? You don't know what I'll pay for it yet."

"No, I don't."

"Then how do you know you won't sell it? I never had anything
yet--except my wife and family--that I wouldn't sell for a price. Look
here! I haven't got time to do any Down-East horse-jockeying. I'll make
you an offer. I'll give you five hundred dollars cash for that strip of
land. What do you say?"

I didn't say anything. Five hundred dollars was a generous offer. I
couldn't help thinking what Mother and I might do with that five hundred
dollars.

"What do you say?" he repeated.

I answered, Yankee fashion, with another question. "Mr. Colton," I
asked, "why do you want to close that Shore Lane?"