"All right, but don't haggle. There are transactions in which men are bettered by being beaten, and this is one of them." "Yes, but it isn't well to let eagerness rush you into a folly." "Ah, but in this affair folly was at the other end--at the buying." "Then, with a wise sale, let us correct that folly." "All right, but without haggling. When are you to meet this man again?" "At noon." "And when shall I see you?" "Immediately after the deal is closed." On DeGolyer's part the day was spent in the spinning of the threads of excuses. He might explain a week's delay, but how was he to account for a three months' put-off? And if at the end of that time young Witherspoon's case should be pronounced hopeless what course was then to be taken? He did not see George Witherspoon again until dinner-time. The merchant met him with a quick inquiry. "We will discuss it in the library, father," DeGolyer answered. "But can't you tell me now whether or not it has come out all right?" "I think it's all right, but you may not. But let as wait until after dinner." When they went into the library Witherspoon hastily lighted his cigar, and sat down in his leather-covered chair. "Well, how did it come out?" he asked. DeGolyer did not sit down. Evidently he expected to remain in the room but a short time. "I told you that he was a very peculiar fellow." "Yes, I know that. What did you do with him?" "Well, the deal isn't closed yet. He wants to go into the office and work three months before he decides." "Tell him to go to the devil!" Witherspoon exclaimed. "No, I can't do that." "Why can't you? Do you belong to him? Have you a consideration for everybody but me?" "I very nearly belong to him." "You very nearly belong to him!" Witherspoon cried. "What in the name of God do you mean? Have you lost your senses?" "My senses are all right, but my situation is peculiar." "I should think so. Henry, I don't want to fly all to pieces. Lately, and with your help, I have pulled myself strongly together, and now I beg of you not to pull me apart."