"I shouldn't wonder," said he, after a few moments of silence, in
which his mind seemed busily occupied,--"I shouldn't wonder if that was
the best way out, after all. I do believe I'll do it. Yes, I will do
it. I'll go and buy out that shoe-shop of Larry Highgetty's, and I'll
let Sam Kimper have it at just what it costs, and trust him for all the
purchase-money. I don't believe the good-will of the place and all the
stock that is in it will cost over a couple of hundred dollars; and
Larry would take my note at six months almost as quick as he'd take
anybody else's money. If things go right I can pay the note, and if
they don't he can get the property back. But in the meantime folks
won't be able to say anything against me. They can't say then that I'm
down on Sam, like some of them say now, and if anybody talks about
Bartram and the upper-crust folks that have been helping the meetings
along, I can just remind them that talk is cheap and that it's money
that tells. I'll do it, as sure as my name's Quickset; and the quicker
I do it the better it will be for me, if I'm not mistaken."
The deacon hurried off to the shoe-store. As usual, the only occupant
of the shop was Sam.
"Where's Larry, Sam?" asked the deacon, briskly.
"I don't know, sir," said Sam, "but I'm afraid he's at Weitz's
beer-shop.
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