MR. CONNORS MAKES AN OFFER
The next morning, however, when Willard found a note from Mr. Connors
in the mail he wasn’t so sure that luck was with them. He hurried
over to Tom’s and got there just as The Ark was being backed from the
garage. Tom took the note and read it aloud:
“DEAR SIR:
“I find that we have never had a settlement for damage done
to my heavy express wagon in collision with your automobile.
The amount paid out by me in the way of repairs was slight and
if you will kindly call at my office soon the matter can be
quickly adjusted.
“Respectfully,
“WILLIAM CONNORS.
“per W. L.”
“Well, of all the cheek!” sputtered Tom indignantly.
“Somehow,” said Willard, “I don’t believe he wants to see us about
those damages.”
“You don’t? Why?”
Willard shook his head. “I don’t know why I don’t, but I just don’t,
Tom. Anyway, let’s go and see him this morning. If he’s going to make
more trouble for us let’s find it out.”
“All right, we’ll go after the first train. If you’ve got anything
disagreeable to do it’s best to do it right off and get it off your
mind. I hope he chokes, though!”
An hour or so later they rode around to Connors’ stable, back of the
hotel, on Ash Street, and found Mr. Connors in the tiny office tucked
in a front corner of the big red building. He was a small, wiry man of
about fifty, with a short and stubby yellow mustache, gimlet eyes and
red cheeks. His attire proclaimed the horseman; a checked suit of a
somewhat loud style, a fancy vest, and a good-sized diamond horse-shoe
in the scarlet tie. A gold chain with unusually large links crossed his
waistcoat and was hung with several charms. In size the liveryman was
not much larger than Willard, but for all of that there was something
about him that commanded instant respect. Willard introduced himself
and Tom and Mr. Connors smiled very nicely. When he smiled his sharp
gray eyes twinkled and one sort of wanted to like him!
“I’d know you from the resemblance you have to your father,” he told
Tom. “Sure, him and me is great pals.” (Tom was not aware of the fact,
but he didn’t question the assertion.) “Well, it’s like this, boys; I
paid out two dollars and twenty-five cents on that wagon――here’s the
bill to look at――and I guess you’ll call that getting off fairly easy.”
“That’s all right,” said Willard calmly, “but we’ve got a bigger bill
against you, Mr. Connors. If you want to pay the difference between our
bill and yours, all right. We can settle up now as well as any time.”
Mr. Connors smiled leniently. “You’re not asking me to pay for what was
your own fault, are you?” he asked. “Sure, ’twas this young man ran his
automobile into my wagon. Maybe ’twas unintentional; like as not ’twas
just an accident, do you mind; but it played hob with the wagon.”
“I didn’t run the car into your wagon,” retorted Tom warmly. “I
couldn’t have because I’d stopped my engine. This man of yours, Green,
drove up in front of our car and then backed against it twice and broke
one of our lamps and――――”
Mr. Connors shook his head gently. “That ain’t the way I got it,
Benton. I had it straight from Pat Herron and Green himself, mind you.
They say you ran your car――――”
“How could I when I had no power on?”
“Sure, I know little about automobiles, but what little I know I
don’t like,” responded Mr. Connors, untroubledly. “They’re queer,
unreasonable contrivances, say the least, and likely to do most
anything, I’m thinking. Was there anyone saw it?”
“There was no one there but your men and myself,” answered Tom. “And of
course they’d swear it was my fault!”
“Don’t be calling my men liars,” cautioned the liveryman quietly. “It
butters no parsnips, do you mind, to call names. I’d as soon believe
them as you. No offense, mind you.”
“Well, anyway, it wasn’t my fault in the least,” said Tom warmly, “and
we have no intention of paying that bill, Mr. Connors.”
Mr. Connors sighed and shook his head again. “’Tain’t the right
spirit,” he mourned.
“Besides,” continued Tom, getting warmed up, “I’m pretty sure you put
Green up to it! If you did it’s a fine thing to ask us to pay you
damages, isn’t it?”
Mr. Connors’ eyes flashed. “Me? I told Johnny to back into your wagon?
I did nothing of the sort! What kind of a blackguard do you take me
for? What would I be telling him to do that for?”
“Well, we know very well that you fixed it so we couldn’t get a stand
on Main Street,” replied Tom.
“Sure I did! And what for not? That’s business, ain’t it? Why would I
be inviting you to step in and take my business away from me? And I’d
have kept you away from the station if I could. But I’m not a man to do
dirty, underhand tricks like you say! And you can put that in your pipe
and smoke it, young man!”
“Well――――” began Tom belligerently.
But Willard interposed. “If you didn’t put Green up to it, Mr. Connors,
we’re glad to know it. But, whether you did or didn’t, it’s a fact that
he deliberately backed into our car with the idea of hurting it. And
all the explanations in the world won’t get around that!”
Mr. Connors seemed impressed. He turned his head toward the door which
stood open into the carriage room. “Is Johnny there?” he shouted.
“No, sir, he’s out with the team,” was the response.
“That’s too bad. If he was here we’d have him in and hear his story of
it.” Mr. Connors frowned and played with his watch-charms. Then his
face cleared and he smiled genially again. “Sure,” he said, “what’s
the use quarreling about a couple of dollars, boys? Maybe you have it
right, after all, or maybe it was no more your fault than Johnny’s. A
couple of dollars won’t break me nor you. Say we call it quits and talk
no more about it?” And Mr. Connors smiled so kindly that Willard began
to feel ashamed. Tom, however, was made of sterner stuff.
“That’s all right, sir, but it cost us――――”
“Never mind,” interrupted Willard. “If Mr. Connors is willing to call
it square we are, I guess.”
“All right,” Tom muttered.
“That’s the way, boys,” said the liveryman heartily. “’Tis settled
then, and no hard feelings on either side. Sure, when gentlemen have
anything between them there’s nothing like getting together and talking
it over, eh? Fair and square, boys; that’s my motto!”
“Yes, sir,” replied Willard, preparing to get up from the rickety
wooden chair that had been assigned to him. But Mr. Connors displayed
no evidence that he considered the interview at an end. Instead,
“Well, and how’s it going?” he asked. “Doing pretty well, are you?”
“The business, you mean?” asked Willard. “Yes, sir, we’re doing very
well indeed.”
“That’s good. And now it’s getting along toward school time again, eh?
Too bad you’ve got to give it up, I say!”
“We――we’re not going to give it up!” exclaimed Tom. “We’re going to
keep right on with it!”
“Are you now? That’s fine, ain’t it? But what’ll you be doing with that
automobile when the snow’s a foot or so deep on the streets?”
“We’ll put chains on the wheels and get along all right,” answered Tom
triumphantly.
“Is it so? They’re great things, automobiles, ain’t they? But I heard
you were going back to school and your friend here was going to
college. I forget who told me that. I think, maybe though, it was my
son George.”
“We are, sir,” responded Willard, “but we’re going to have someone else
run the car for us. It’s too good a business to give up.”
“Right you are! But――――” and Mr. Connors shook his head
doubtfully――“’tain’t the same when you have someone else do it for you.
How are you going to know if you get all the money that’s coming to
you? I’ve been bossing men all my life, nearly, and I know there ain’t
one man in ten that’ll do the work the way you’d do it yourself; to say
nothing of being honest with money. ’Twon’t work, boys, ’twon’t work!
And that reminds me of something that’s been sort of buzzing around
in my head of late. You fellows have done pretty well for a couple of
months, and I guess you’ve made a little money, probably as much as you
hoped you’d make, eh? But now it’s getting where you can’t look after
the business yourself and where you’ll be in a lot of trouble one way
and another. Why ain’t this a good time to sell out for a tidy figure
and stay ahead of the game, eh?”
“Sell out?” murmured Willard. “I don’t think we’d care to do that,
sir.”
“Sure you would――if you got enough money,” replied the other jovially.
“Anybody would. Now suppose I make you an offer for your automobile and
your good will, do you mind, you signing an agreement not to engage in
the business again. Suppose I offer you――offer you――well, say I offer
you five hundred dollars, eh? That’s worth considering, ain’t it?”
Tom scowled. “We make that much in two months,” he said.
“Not clear, you don’t,” was the reply. “Not after paying for gasoline
and repairs and all. But supposing you do, Benton, how long is it
going to keep up? When you’re paying another fellow to run your bus
for you how much are you going to make? Besides, I’ve been thinking it
might be a good plan to put on an automobile myself. They say they’re
considerably cheaper than horses.”
“I dare say there’d be room for both of us,” replied Willard smoothly.
“I don’t think we care to sell out, Mr. Connors.”
“Don’t, eh? That means I ain’t offered enough, I guess. Well, now, just
to show that I’m no haggler, boys, I’ll double that figure. I’ll pay
you an even thousand! What do you say now? I guess that’s some offer,
ain’t it? All I’m getting is a second-hand automobile that didn’t cost
more’n a couple of hundred, I suppose.”
“We’re not selling,” responded Tom emphatically.
Mr. Connors seemed surprised and pained. “Well, I’m sorry. You’ll never
get as good an offer again. And if you think I’ll raise the figure
you’re away off, boys. That’s my last word. A thousand or nothing.
Better think it over. There’s no hurry. A week from now will do. Think
it over, boys.”
“We don’t need to,” responded Willard firmly. “Tom’s right. We haven’t
any idea of selling out, sir.”
Mr. Connors sighed and frowned. “I’m sorry for you,” he said. “I’ll
tell you frankly, boys, that Bill Connors isn’t the sort to sit down
and see someone take his business away from him. I’ve been easy with
you so far but that ain’t saying I’m going to keep on standing around
and getting kicked. No, sir! I’ll give you a week to think it over.
After that――look out for squalls, boys!”
“We will,” said Tom shortly. “We’ve weathered quite a few of your
squalls already and I guess we can get through some more. I guess we’ll
be going now.”
“All right. I’m obliged to you for calling.” Mr. Connors was all
affability again. “Better think that over, though. A thousand dollars,
do you mind; and that’s a good deal of money for a couple of youngsters
like you to make. Think it over and let me know by this day week, boys.
Good day to you!”
“Good morning, sir,” murmured Willard. Tom strode out silently and said
nothing until they were in the car. Then,
“So that was what he wanted to see us about,” he muttered. “You were
right, Will.”
“Do you really think he will put on an auto himself?” asked Willard
uneasily.
“No, I don’t. He was bluffing. If he meant to do that he wouldn’t
bother with buying us out, I guess.”
“I suppose,” said Willard after a moment’s thought, “that a thousand is
a pretty good offer. I wonder if we’d do better to take it.”
“I wouldn’t take it from him if it was two thousand!” declared Tom
vindictively. “Anybody who’s done the mean things he’s done――――”
“He said he didn’t put Johnny Green up to that, and I sort of believe
him, Tom.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” grumbled the other, “but he fixed it so we couldn’t
get a stand on Main Street, didn’t he? Well, that’s enough. If he wants
to make trouble, let him! But there’s one thing we’ve got to do in a
hurry, and that is buy that truck and get started before he finds out
about it. I don’t know just what he could do, but I’ll bet he’d do it!
Let’s see Jimmy as soon as we can and hear what he thinks.”
And when Jimmy had heard what they had to tell him he said just one
word, and that was “Hustle!”