The day closed, and not a whisper about the town lot had come to the
ears of Mr. Smith. What could it mean? Had his offer to sell at six
thousand been rejected? The very thought caused his heart to grow
heavy in his bosom. Six, seven, eight o'clock came, and still it was
all dark with Mr. Smith. He could bear the suspense no longer, and
so determined to call upon his neighbour Wilson, who was a member of
the council, and learn from him what had been done.
So he called on Mr. Wilson.
"Ah, friend Smith," said the latter; "how are you this evening?"
"Well, I thank you," returned Smith, feeling a certain oppression of
the chest. "How are you?"
"Oh, very well."
Here there was a pause. After which Smith said, "About that ground
of mine. What did you do?"
"Nothing," replied Wilson, coldly.
"Nothing, did you say?" Smith's voice was a little husky.
"No. You declined our offer; or, rather, the high price fixed by
yourself upon the land."
"You refused to buy it at five thousand, when it was offered," said
Smith.
"I know we did, because your demand was exorbitant."
"Oh, no, not at all," returned Smith quickly.
"In that we only differ," said Wilson. "However, the council has
decided not to pay you the price you ask."
"Unanimously?"
"There was not a dissenting voice.
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