hey'd sell yet. Perhaps they're prejudiced against
me, I don't know. Maybe they will sell to you; you and they seem to
be thicker'n thieves. Er--that is, of course, you understand I don't
mean--Oh, well, you know what I mean, Perfessor. Now what do you say?"

Galusha rose and picked up his hat from the floor.

"I'm afraid I must say no," he said, quietly, but with a firmness which
even Raish Pulcifer's calloused understanding could not miss. "I could
not think of accepting, really."

"But, say, Perfessor--"

"No, Mr. Pulcifer. I could not."

"But why not? IF--Well, I tell you, maybe I might make it sixty dollars
instead of fifty for you."

"No. I couldn't, Mr. Pulcifer.... If you will kindly unlock the door?"

Pulcifer swore. "Well, you must be richer'n you look, that's all I've
got to say," he snarled. He kicked the wastebasket across the room and
growled: "I'll get the stuff away from 'em yet, just the same. What the
fools are hangin' on for is more'n I can see. Martha Phipps was down
on her knees beggin' me to buy only a little spell ago. Old Jeth,
of course, thinks his 'spirits' are backin' HIM up. Crazy old loon!
Spirits! In this day and time! God sakes! Humph! I wish to thunder I
could deal with the spirits direct; might be able to do business with
THEM. Perfessor, now come, think it over. There ain't anything crooked
about it.... Why, what is it, Perfessor?" eagerly. "Changed your mind,
have you?"

Galusha's expression had changed, certainly. He looked queerly at Mr.
Pulcifer, queerly and for an appreciable interval of time. There was an
odd flash in his eye and the suspicion of a smile at the corner of his
lips. But he was grave enough when he spoke.

"Mr. Pulcifer," he said, "I appreciate your kindness in--ah--considering
me in this matter. I--it is impossible for me to accept your offer, of
course, but--but--"

"Now, hold on, Perfessor. You think that offer over."

"No, I cannot accept. But it has occurred to me that perhaps...
perhaps... Mr. Pulcifer, do you know Miss Hoag?"

"Hey? Marietta Hoag? KNOW her? Yes, I know her; know her too well for my
own good. Why?"

"Have you any--ah--influence with her? That is, would she be likely to
listen to a suggestion from you?"

"Listen! SHE? Confound her, I've got a note of hers for seventy-five
dollars and it's two months overdue. She'd BETTER listen! Say, what are
you drivin' at, Perfessor?"

Galusha deposited his hat upon the floor again, and sat