The deacon hesitated. He was a bit confused by this unusual way of doing business. It was too hurried an affair, and besides it did not give him an opportunity to size up his man. Nor did he know how familiar this possible purchaser was with the property. "Where be you?" he demanded. "In New York." "In--see here, I rec'gnize your voice; you 're Billy Harkins down to the corner. Ye need n't think ye can play your jokes on me." "We 've only two hours and a quarter left," warned Donaldson. "Well, ye need n't think I 'm goin' to stand here in the cold fer thet long." "It's warm 'nuff here," Donaldson answered genially. "Maybe ye 've gut more on than I have." "Hush, Deacon, there are ladies present." "They ain't neither, down here. Our women are in bed, where they oughter be." "Not at this hour! Why, the evening is young yet. But how much will you take?" "Wal, th' place is wuth 'bout two thousand dollars." Donaldson realized that it was the magic word "New York" which had so suddenly inflated the price. The deacon was taking a chance that this might be some wealthy New Yorker looking for a country home. "Do you call that a fair price?" he asked. "The house is in good condition, and thar 's over three acres of good grass land and ten acres of pasture with pooty trees in it." "Just so. I 'm not able to look the place over, so I 'll have to depend upon your word for it. You consider that a fair price for the property?" "Well, o' course, fer cash I might knock off fifty." "I see. Then nineteen hundred and fifty is an honest value of the whole estate?" "I 'low as much." "Deacon." "Yes" (eagerly). "You 're a member of the church." "Yes" (lamely). "And you certainly would n't deal unfairly with a neighbor on Sunday?" "What--" "It's thirteen minutes of ten on a Saturday night. That's pretty near Sunday, is n't it?" "What of it?" (suspiciously). "Remember that advertisement you inserted in the Berringdon Gazette?" There was a silence of a minute. "Wall," faltered the deacon rather feebly, "I thought mebbe ye wanted the farm fer a summer place. It's wuth more fer that." "It is n't worth a cent more. You simply tried to steal two hundred dollars." "Ye mean ter say--" "Exactly that; I 've prevented you from going to bed within two hours of the Lord's day with the theft of two hundred dollars on your soul." "If ye think I 'm gonter stand up here in th' cold and listen to sech talk as thet--" "I 'll give you fifteen hundred dollars cash for the place," interrupted Donaldson. "And remember that I know you through and through. I even know how much you stole from old man Burnham." This was a chance shot, but it evidently went home from the sound of uneasy coughing and spluttering that came to him over the telephone. Donaldson found considerable amusement in grilling this country Shylock. "Why, the house 'n' barn is wuth more 'n thet," the deacon exploded.