Mr. Binger he acted sulky, but it looked like there wasn’t anything he could do about it, so they went out and sat in red rocking-chairs, and Catty and I sat on the steps close by. “I represent a syndicate in New York, Mr. Kinderhook, and we have heard that you are about to start the manufacture of a remarkable churn.” “You are correct, sir. It is a churn that will revolutionize the business. A year after I start to manufacture there will be no other churns on the market.” “So I understand, sir. My associates and myself, sir, wish to make you a proposition. You have not started to manufacture this churn as yet. It will require a large outlay of money to do so.” “No trouble about that, Mr. Binger,” says Kinderhook, with a wave of his hand. “Um!... So we understand. We know you are rated well above a million, but we have an idea that you will not object to making a considerable sum without the necessity of building a factory.” “It is not merely the making of money that interests me,” says Mr. Kinderhook, “but I have grown to like this little town and to want to do something for its prosperity. I want to see the town grow, sir. It has a wonderful future.” “Possibly, but my associates and myself believe we can make a proposition that will interest you.... As you say, this churn of yours will put all other churns out of business.” “Do you, Mr. Binger, represent the Amalgamated Churn Company—the trust?” “Hush!” says Mr. Binger. “If you do, sir,” says Kinderhook, “this interview is at an end. You are afraid of my churn, sir. You do not want my churn to be manufactured because it will destroy your business. You want to buy me off. Am I right?” “Er—well—” Mr. Binger hesitated and hemmed and hawed and acted embarrassed. “You go back and tell the churn trust,” says Mr. Kinderhook, in a voice you could have heard clean to the post-office, “that my churn is not for sale and I am not for sale.” “I am empowered to offer you fifty thousand dollars for your secret, Mr. Kinderhook.” “Nonsense! Fiddlesticks! I shall make ten times that out of the manufacture. Good afternoon, Mr. Binger. There is nothing further to say.” Right then and there Mr. Kinderhook got up as grand as an emperor and walked off, leaving Mr. Binger looking like he had bit into an April-fool sandwich filled with soap. Catty and I sat a spell and then went off to talk it over. “That was funny,” says I. “It was,” says he. “Pretended not to know each other.” “And Kinderhook telegraphed for him to come,” says I. “It’s some kind of a snide trick. That’s sure. Those two fellers are in it together, and they’re tryin’ to fool folks some way. Whatever their scheme is, it’s pretty slick.” “You bet,” says I. “We’ll have to watch both of ’em,” says Catty.