"A hundred dollars an acre!" exclaimed Mr. Sleighter. "Don't try to put
anything over on me. Personally I admire your generous, kindly nature,
but as a financial adviser you don't shine. I guess I won't bother about
that farm anyway."

Mr. Sleighter's question awakened earnest thought in Mr. Martin, and the
next morning he approached Mr. Gwynne with a proposition to purchase his
farm with its attached buildings. Mr. Martin made it clear that he was
chiefly anxious to do a neighbourly turn.

"The house and the stable ain't worth much," he said, "but the farm
bein' handy to my property, I own up is worth more to me than to other
folks, perhaps. So bein' old neighbours, I am willin' to give four
thousand dollars, half cash down, for the hull business."

"Surely that is a low figure," said Mr. Gwynne.

"Low figure!" exclaimed Mr. Martin. "All right, I ain't pressin' it on
you; but if you could get any one in this neighbourhood to offer four
thousand dollars for your farm, I will give you five hundred extra.
But," he continued, "I ain't pressin' you. Don't much matter to me."

The offer came at a psychologically critical moment, when Mr. Gwynne was
desperately seeking escape from an intolerable environment.

"I shall consult Mrs. Gwynne," he said, "and let you know in a few
days."

"Don't know as I can wait that long," said Mr. Martin. "I made the offer