The latter was in the chair at once. "Thank you, no. Twenty," he said, and
began to write.
"Twenty?" Pell repeated, and stroked his chin. He must be wary; he must go
cautiously with this young fellow. He would see through him if he didn't.
"Certainly. Your first offer is the one I take," Gilbert said in a firm
voice.
Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going
to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from
his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on
the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell,
eagerly. "Give it to me! _I'll_ take it!"
But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched
the young man write.
Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved
over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't
there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired.
Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure
there's oil here. I'm not sure at all."
"But _he_ seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with
his wily countenance.
"Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123