"Want to sell! If we didn't want to sell this old shebang we'd be
dumb idiots."

"Then, why in the name of common sense don't you sell?"

"Because, somehow it don't look natural to me."

"Well, I must confess that to throw away much money on an old shell
like that doesn't look any too natural to me."

"Come now, Jim, that was a real nice house when it was built."

Jim laughed sarcastically. "Running up your wares now, are you?"

"That house cost Andrew Bolton a pile of money. And now, if it's
fixed up, it'll be the best house in Brookville."

"That isn't saying much. See here, you've got to let me pass. If you
want to sell--I should think you would--I don't see what you are
worrying about. I don't suppose you are worrying for fear you may
cheat the girl."

"We ain't goin' to cheat the girl, but--I dunno." Whittle stood
aside, shaking his head, and Jim passed on. He loitered along the
shaggy hedge which bordered the old Bolton estate, and a little
farther, then turned back. He had reached the house again when he
started. In front of the gate stood a shadowy figure, a woman, by the
outlines of the dress. Jim continued hesitatingly. He feared to
startle her. But he did not. When he came abreast of her, she turned