said Mr. Harum with a confirmatory shake of the head.  “Wa’al,” he resumed, “in about a few minutes back she come, lickity-cut, an’ pulled up in front of me.  ’C’n you send my sister’s hoss home?’ she says, ‘an’ then I sha’n’t have to change agin.  I’ll stay on my hoss,’ she says, laughin’, an’ then agin laughin’ fit to kill, fer I stood there with my mouth open clear to my back teeth, not bein’ used to doin’ bus’nis ‘ith quite so much neatniss an’ dispatch, as the sayin’ is.

“‘Oh, it’s all right,’ she says.  ‘Poppa came home last night an’ I’ll have him see you this afternoon or to-morro’.’  ’But mebbe he ’n I won’t agree about the price,’ I says.  ‘Yes, you will,’ she says, ‘an’ if you don’t I won’t make his back sore’—­an’ off they went, an’ left me standin’ there like a stick in the mud.  I’ve bought an’ sold hosses to some extent fer a consid’able number o’ years,” said Mr. Harum reflectively, “but that partic’ler transaction’s got a peg all to itself.”

John laughed and asked, “How did it come out?  I mean, what sort of an interview did you have with the young woman’s father, the popular Mr. Verjoos?”

“Oh,” said David, “he druv up to the office the next mornin’, ’bout ten o’clock, an’ come into the back room here, an’ after we’d passed the time o’ day, he says, clearin’ his throat in a way he’s got, ’He-uh, he-uh!’ he says, ’my daughter tells me that she run off with a hoss of yours yestidy in rather a summery manner, an—­he-uh-uh—­I have come to see you about payin’ fer him.  What is the price?’ he says.

“‘Wa’al,’ I says, more ‘n anythin’ to see what he’d say, ’what would you say he was wuth?’ An’ with that he kind o’ stiffened a little stiffer ’n he was before, if it could be.

“‘Really,’ he says, ’he-uh-uh, I haven’t any idea.  I haven’t seen the animal, an’ I should not consider myself qual’fied to give an opinion upon his value if I had, but,’ he says, ’I don’t know that that makes any material diff’rence, however, because I am quite—­he-uh, he-uh—­in your hands—­he-uh!—­within limits—­he-uh-uh!—­within limits,’ he says.  That kind o’ riled me,” remarked David.  “I see in a minute what was passin’ in his mind.  ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘Mr. Verjoos, I guess the fact o’ the matter is ’t I’m about as much in the mud as you be in the mire—­your daughter’s got my hoss,’ I says.  ‘Now you ain’t dealin’ with a hoss jockey,’ I says, ‘though I don’t deny that I buy an’ sell hosses, an’ once in a while make money at it.  You’re dealin’ with David Harum, Banker, an’ I consider ‘t I’m dealin’ with a lady, or the father of one on her account,’ I says.

“‘He-uh, he-uh!  I meant no offense, sir,’ he says.

“‘None bein’ meant, none will be took,’ I says.  ‘Now,’ I says,’ I was offered one-seventy-five fer that hoss day before yestidy, an’ wouldn’t take it.  I can’t sell him fer that,’ I says.

“‘He-uh, uh! cert’nly not,’ he says.

“‘Wait a minit,’ I says.  ’I can’t sell him fer that because I said I wouldn’t; but if you feel like drawin’ your check fer one-seventy-six,’ I says, ‘we’ll call it a deal,’” The speaker paused with a chuckle.