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Updated: May 23, 2025
Sleighter somehow felt as if his soul were being exposed to a searchlight. It made him uncomfortable. "It's a fine day, ma'am," he remarked, seeking cover for his soul in conversation. "A little warm for the time," he continued, wiping his forehead with a highly coloured silk handkerchief. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Sleighter? Do you find it warm? I thought there was quite a chilly wind to-day.
I feel I ought to go to him with the matter still open." "Want to screw him up, eh?" said Mr. Sleighter, his lips drawing close together. "No, sir." Mr. Gwynne's voice had a little ring in it. "I consider it fairer to Mr. Martin." "Don't see as how he has much claim on you," replied Mr. Sleighter. "But that's your own business. Say, there he comes now.
It was not until after the money had been drawn and actually paid that Mr. Martin came fully to realise the extraordinary nature of his act. "That there feller," he said, looking from the receipt in his hand to the store door through which the form of Mr. Sleighter had just vanished, "that there feller, he's too swift fer me.
"Boss ain't in?" he inquired of the clerk. "No, he's at the house, I guess." "Back soon?" "Don't know. Guess he's busy over there." "Seen Mr. Martin around?" "Yes, he was here a while ago. Said he would be in again later." Mr. Sleighter greatly disliked the idea of doing business with Mr. Gwynne at his own house. "Can't do no business with his missis and kids around," he said to himself.
It was a bitter experience for him to be forced to confess himself a business failure, and with this bitterness there mingled a feeling of hostility toward all successful business men. To him it seemed that in order to win success in business a man must become, like Mr. Martin, a highway robber. In this mood of bitterness and hostility toward successful men, Mr. Sleighter found him the next day.
The business went into the hands of a receiver and was bought up at about fifty cents on the dollar by a man recently from western Canada whose specialty was the handling of business wreckage. No one after even a cursory glance at his face would suspect Mr. H. P. Sleighter of deficiency in business qualities.
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.
Meanwhile Larry was in the hands of his sisters, who had delightedly kissed him to his shamefaced chagrin, and introduced him to their new-found friends. "So this is Larry." said Miss Hazel Sleighter, greeting him with a dazzling smile. "We have heard a lot about you. I think you must be quite wonderful. Come here, Tom, and meet your friends." Poor Larry!
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.
I don't think you could coax her to do what she didn't want." "And Mrs. Sleighter can you coax Mrs. Sleighter?" "Oh, yes, the girls just coax her and coax her, and though she doesn't want to a bit, she just gives in." "That's nice of her. That must be very nice for the girls, eh?" "Oh, I don't know, Papa." "What? don't you think it is nice to be able to coax people to do what you want?"
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