“Well?” said John.

“Wa’al,” said David, “he, he, he, he!  That clean took the wind out of him, an’ he got redder ’n a beet.  ‘He-uh-uh-uh-huh! really,’ he says, ’I couldn’t think of offerin’ you less than two hunderd.’

“‘All right,’ I says, ’I’ll send up fer the hoss.  One-seventy-six is my price, no more an’ no less,’ an’ I got up out o’ my chair.”

“And what did he say then?” asked John.

“Wa’al,” replied Mr. Harum, “he settled his neck down into his collar an’ necktie an’ cleared his throat a few times, an’ says, ’You put me in ruther an embarrassin’ position, Mr. Harum.  My daughter has set her heart on the hoss, an’—­he-uh-uh-uh!’—­with a kind of a smile like a wrinkle in a boot, ’I can’t very well tell her that I wouldn’t buy him because you wouldn’t accept a higher offer than your own price.  I—­I think I must accede to your proposition, an’—­he-uh-uh—­accept the favor,’ he says, draggin’ the words out by the roots.

“‘No favor at all,’ I says, ’not a bit on’t, not a bit on’t.  It was the cleanest an’ slickist deal I ever had,’ I says, ‘an’ I’ve had a good many.  That girl o’ your’n,’ I says, ‘if you don’t mind my sayin’ it, comes as near bein’ a full team an’ a cross dog under the wagin as you c’n git; an’ you c’n tell her if you think fit,’ I says, ’that if she ever wants anythin’ more out o’ my barn I’ll throw off twenty-four dollars ev’ry time, if she’ll only do her own buyin’.’

“Wa’al,” said Mr. Harum, “I didn’t know but what he’d gag a little at that, but he didn’t seem to, an’ when he went off after givin’ me his check, he put out his hand an’ shook hands, a thing he never done before.”

“That was really very amusing,” was John’s comment.

“’T wa’n’t a bad day’s work either,” observed Mr. Harum.  “I’ve sold the crowd a good many hosses since then, an’ I’ve laughed a thousan’ times over that pertic’ler trade.  Me ’n Miss Claricy,” he added, “has alwus ben good friends sence that time—­an’ she ’n Polly are reg’lar neetups.  She never sees me in the street but what it’s ‘How dee do, Mr. H-a-rum?’ An’ I’ll say, ‘Ain’t that ole hoss wore out yet?’ or, ‘When you comin’ ‘round to run off with another hoss?’ I’ll say.”

At this point David got out of his chair, yawned, and walked over to the window.

“Did you ever in all your born days,” he said, “see such dum’d weather?  Jest look out there—­no sleighin’, no wheelin’, an’ a barn full wantin’ exercise.  Wa’al, I guess I’ll be moseyin’ along.”  And out he went.

CHAPTER XXX.

If John Lenox had kept a diary for the first year of his life in Homeville most of its pages would have been blank.