“Sir, you made me an offer for my farm,” said Mr. Gwynne indignantly, “and I have just refused an offer from Mr. Martin on account of yours.” “Oh, we'll cut that all out,” said Mr. Sleighter, whose voice and manner indicated strong excitement. “Now don't talk. Listen to me, my son. You ain't got any right to be playing around with business men anyhow. Now I am going to do a little business for you, if you will allow me, ma'am. I take it you want to get away from here.” Mr. Gwynne nodded, gazing at him in astonishment. “You want to go West.” Again Mr. Gwynne nodded. “Well, there's only one spot in the West--Alberta. You want a farm.” “Yes,” said Mr. Gwynne. “Yes, certainly,” said Mrs. Gwynne. “There's just one farm that will suit you, an' that's Lakeside Farm, Wolf Willow, Alberta, owned by H. P. Sleighter, Esq., who's going to stump you to a trade. Five hundred acres, one hundred broke an' a timber lot; a granary; stables and corral, no good; house, fair to middlin'. Two hundred an' fifty acres worth ten dollars at least, best out of doors; cattle run, two hundred acres worth five; swamp and sleugh, fifty acres, only good to look at but mighty pretty in the mornin' at sun-up. Not much money in scenery though. Building worth between two and three thousand. Your plant here is worth about six thousand. I know I offered you five thousand, but I was buyin' then and now I am buyin' and sellin'. Anyway, I guess it's about even, an' we'll save you a lot of trouble an' time an' money. An' so, if you really want a western farm, you might just as well have mine. I did not think to sell. Of course I knew I must sell in the long run, but couldn't just see my place in anybody else's hands. Somehow it seems different though to see you folks on it. You seem to fit. Anyway, there's the offer. What do you say?” “Sit down, Mr. Sleighter,” said Mr. Gwynne. “This is a rather surprising proposition.” Mrs. Gwynne's eyes grew soft. “Michael, I think it is wonderful.” But Mr. Gwynne would not look at his wife. “Let me see, Mr. Sleighter, your farm, you say, with buildings, is worth about six thousand to sixty-five hundred. Mine is worth from fifty-five hundred to six thousand. I will take your offer and pay the difference.” “Oh, come off your perch,” said Mr. Sleighter. “You're doin' the highfalutin' Vere de Vere act now. Listen to me. The deal is as level as I can figger it. Your farm and store with the machine business suit me all right. I feel I can place my boy right here for a while anyway. My farm, I believe, would suit you better than anythin' else you can get. There's my offer. Take it or leave it.” “I think we will take it, Mr. Sleighter,” said Mrs. Gwynne. “Michael dear, I feel Mr. Sleighter is right, and besides I know he is doing us a great kindness.” “Kindness, ma'am, not at all. Business is business, and that's all there is to it. Well, I'll be goin'. Think it over, get the papers fixed up by to-morrow. No, don't thank me. Good-bye.”