Twenty-five thousand. It was out at last, falling like a stone on the
Bradleys' hearts. Nancy could hardly keep the bitter tears from her
eyes. Bert, more hardy, barked out a short laugh. "I'm a fool to let it
go," said the agent frankly; "I'm all tied up with other things. But I
have no hesitation in saying this; you buy it, put the garden in shape,
sit tight for a few years, and I'll turn it over for you for forty
thousand, and throw in my commission!"
"Nix!" said Bert, honestly, "Nothing stirring! It's too big a
proposition for us, we couldn't swing it. It may be all you say, but
I'm raising a family; I can't go into twenty-five-thousand-dollar
deals--"
"I don't see why--" began the agent, unruffled.
"I do!" Bert interrupted him, cheerfully.
"Now look here, Mr. Bradley," said Mr. Rogers, patiently. "Let's get
the real dope on this thing. You want a home. You don't want a
contract-made, cheaply constructed place in some community that your
wife and children will outgrow before they're five years older! Now,
here you get a place that every year is going to improve. There isn't
so much of this Sound shore that is lying around waiting to be bought.
I can show you----"
"Nothing stirring, I tell you!" Bert repeated, "Don't hand me out a lot
of dope about it. I can see for myself what it is, I like it, the
Missus likes it, it's a dandy proposition--for a millionaire. But I
couldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole!"
Nancy's lip began to tremble. She was tired, and somehow--somehow it
all seemed such a waste, if they weren't to have it! She busied herself
untying Anne's napkin, and sent the three children on a gingerly tour
of inspection down to the beach.
"Now listen a moment!" Mr. Rogers said. And Nancy added gently, almost
tremulously:
"Do just LISTEN to him, Bert!"
"You pay rent, don't you?" began Mr. Rogers, "Sixty, you said? That's
seven hundred and twenty dollars a year, and you have nothing to show
for it! But you'd consider seventy-five or a hundred cheap enough for a
place like this wouldn't you?"
"I could go--a hundred, yes," Bert admitted, clearing his throat.
"You don't HAVE to go any hundred," the agent said, triumphantly. "And
besides that, isn't it to your advantage to live in your own house, and
have a home that you can be proud of, and pay everything over your
interest toward your mortgage? We have people here who only paid two or
three thousand down, we don't push you--that isn't our idea. If you
can't meet our terms, we'll meet yours. You've got your nest-egg,
whatever it is----"
"As a matter of fact, I've got ten thousand to start with," Bert said
slowly. "But that's all I have got, Rogers," he added firmly, "And I
don't propose----"
"You've GOT ten thousand?" asked the agent, with a kindly smile. And
immediately his vehemence gave way to a sort of benign amusement. "Why,
my dear boy," he said genially, "What's the matter with you? There's a
mortgage of twelve thousand on that place now; you pay your ten, and 6
per cent, on the rest--that's something a little more than sixty
dollars a month--and then you clear off your loan, or not, as suits
you! I don't have to tell you that that's good business. How much of
the holdings of Pearsall and Pearsall are clear of mortgages! We carry
'em on every inch of our land, right to the hilt too. If you're getting
the equivalent of 8 or 9 per cent, on your money, you should worry
about the man that carries the loan. You're paying 6 per cent, on
somebody's twelve thousand now, don't forget that..."