Why, I'd have
to mortgage - I wouldn't mind so much paying twelve thousand but -
Why good God, Mr. Babbitt, you're asking more 'n twice its value!
And threatening to ruin me if I don't take it!"
"Purdy, I don't like your way of talking! I don't
like it one little bit! Supposing Lyte and I were stinking enough
to want to ruin any fellow human, don't you suppose we know it's to
our own selfish interest to have everybody in Zenith prosperous?
But all this is beside the point. Tell you what we'll do: We'll
come down to twenty-three thousand-five thousand down and the rest
on mortgage - and if you want to wreck the old shack and rebuild, I
guess I can get Lyte here to loosen up for a building-mortgage on
good liberal terms. Heavens, man, we'd be glad to oblige you! We
don't like these foreign grocery trusts any better 'n you do! But
it isn't reasonable to expect us to sacrifice eleven thousand or
more just for neighborliness, IS it! How about it, Lyte? You
willing to come down?"
By warmly taking Purdy's part, Babbitt persuaded the
benevolent Mr. Lyte to reduce his price to twenty-one thousand
dollars. At the right moment Babbitt snatched from a drawer the
agreement he had had Miss McGoun type out a week ago and thrust it
into Purdy's hands. He genially shook his fountain pen to make
certain that it was flowing, handed it to Purdy, and approvingly
watched him sign.
The work of the world was being done. Lyte had made
something over nine thousand dollars, Babbitt had made a
four-hundred-and-fifty dollar commission, Purdy had, by the
sensitive mechanism of modern finance, been provided with a
business-building, and soon the happy inhabitants of Linton would
have meat lavished upon them at prices only a little higher than
those down-town.
It had been a manly battle, but after it Babbitt
drooped. This was the only really amusing contest he had been
planning. There was nothing ahead save details of leases,
appraisals, mortgages.
He muttered, "Makes me sick to think of Lyte
carrying off most of the profit when I did all the work, the old
skinflint! And - What else have I got to do to-day? . . Like to
take a good long vacation. Motor trip. Something." He sprang up,
rekindled by the thought of lunching with Paul Riesling
CHAPTER V
B ABBITT'S
preparations for leaving the office to its feeble self during the
hour and a half of his lunch-period were somewhat less elaborate
than the plans for a general European war.
He fretted to Miss McGoun, "What time you going to
lunch? Well, make sure Miss Bannigan is in then. Explain to her
that if Wiedenfeldt calls up, she's to tell him I'm already having
the title traced. And oh, b' the way, remind me to-morrow to have
Penniman trace it. Now if anybody comes in looking for a cheap
house, remember we got to shove that Bangor Road place off onto
somebody. If you need me, I'll be at the Athletic Club. And - uh -
And - uh - I'll be back by two."
He dusted the cigar-ashes off his vest. He placed a
difficult unanswered letter on the pile of unfinished work, that he
might not fail to attend to it that afternoon. (For three noons,
now, he had placed the same letter on the unfinished pile.) He
scrawled on a sheet of yellow backing-paper the memorandum: "See
abt apt h drs," which gave him an agreeable feeling of having
already seen about the apartment-house doors.
He discovered that he was smoking another cigar. He
threw it away, protesting, "Darn it, I thought you'd quit this darn
smoking!" He courageously returned the cigar-box to the
correspondence-file, locked it up, hid the key in a more difficult
place, and raged, "Ought to take care of myself. And need more
exercise - walk to the club, every single noon - just what I'll do
- every noon-cut out this motoring all the time."
The resolution made him feel exemplary. Immediately
after it he decided that this noon it was too late to walk.
It took but little more time to start his car and
edge it into the
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