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."Mrs. Gwynne followed him to the door, her face flushed, her eyes aglow, a smile hovering uncertainly about her lips. "Mr. Sleighter,"she said, "the Lord sent you to us because He knew we were in need of guiding.""Ho, ho!" laughed Mr. Sleighter. "Like that Samaritan chap in the reading, eh? I guess you had got among thieves all right, more of 'em perhaps than you recognised too.""He sent you to us," repeated Mrs. Gwynne, offering him her hand.
"Well, I donno but that He steered me to you. But all the same Iguess the advantage is to me all right." Mr. Sleighter looked hard down the street, then turned and faced her squarely. "I want to say that it's done me a pile of good to have seen you, ma'am. It's made things look different.""You are a good man, Mr. Sleighter," she said, looking at him with misty eyes.
"A good man!" Mr. Sleighter was seized with a cough. "A good man!
Good Lord, ma'am! nobody never found it out but you--durn that cough anyway." And still troubled by his cough, Mr. Sleighter hurried down the path to the gate and out on to the road.
Once resolved to break up their home in Eastern Canada, the Gwynnes lost no time in completing their arrangements for the transportation of themselves and their household gods and such of their household goods as Mr. Sleighter advised, to the new western country.
Mr. Sleighter appeared to regard the migration of the Gwynne family to the western country as an enterprise in which he had made an investment from which he was bound to secure the greatest possible return. The principle of exchange which had been the basis of the deal as far as the farms were concerned was made to apply as far as possible to farm implements and equipment, household goods and chattels.
"What's the use of your packin' a hull bunch of stuff West an' my packin' a hull bunch of stuff East. We'll just tote up the stock an' stuff we have got and make a deal on it. I know all my stuff an' yours is here. We'll make a trade."To this Mr. Gwynne gladly agreed. The arrangement would save trouble and useless expenditure. Hence the car was packed with such goods as Mr. Sleighter considered especially useful in the new home, and with such household furniture as the new home lacked and such articles as were precious from family or personal associations.
"What about the pictures and curtains?" inquired Mr. Gwynne. "We don't need them.""Take 'em all," said Mr. Sleighter. "Pictures are like folks.
They got faces an' looks. And curtains--my missis got hers all packed. Curtains are like clothes--they only fit them that owns them.""And the piano?"
