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David Walker enjoyed the effect of his announcement; it was clear that he had produced an impression.

“Money is no object to him. I told him that you did not wish to sell, and he said that he would make it worth your while.”

“Half a million dollars! We should be nearly rich,” let fall Miss Carry, upon whom the full import of the offer was breaking.

“Yes; and think what good you two ladies could do with all that money–practical good,” continued the broker, pressing his opportunity and availing himself of his knowledge of their aspirations. “You could buy elsewhere and have enough left over to endow a professorship at Bryn Mawr, Miss Rebecca; and you, Miss Carry, would be able to revel in charitable donations.”

Those who knew the Ripley sisters well were aware that plain speaking never vexed them. Beating about the bush from artificiality or ignoring a plain issue was the sort of thing they resented. Consequently, the directness of David Walker’s sally did not appear to them a liberty, but merely a legitimate summing up of the situation. Miss Rebecca was the spokesman as usual, though her choice was always governed by what she conceived to be the welfare of her sister, whom she still looked on as almost a very young person. Sitting upright and clasping her elbows, as she was apt to do in moments of stress, she replied:

“Money is money, Mr. Walker, and half a million dollars is not to be discarded lightly. We should be able, as you suggest, to do some good with so much wealth. But, on the other hand, we don’t need it, and we have no one dependent on us for support. My brother is doing well and is likely to leave his only child all that is good for her. We love this place. Caroline may marry some day” (Miss Carry laughed protestingly at the suggestion and ejaculated, “Not very likely”), “but I never shall. I expect to come here as long as I live. We love every inch of the place–the woods, the beach, the sea. Our garden, which we made ourselves, is our delight. Why should we give up all this because some one offers us five times what we supposed it to be worth? My sister is here to speak for herself, but so far as I am concerned you may tell Mr. Anderson that if our place is worth so much as that we cannot afford to part with it.”

“Oh, no, it wouldn’t do at all! Our heartstrings are round the roots of these trees, Mr. Walker,” added the younger sister in gentle echo of this determination.

“Don’t be in a hurry to decide; think it over. It will bear reflection,” said the broker briskly.

“There’s nothing to think over. It becomes clearer every minute,” said Miss Rebecca a little tartly. Then she added: “I dare say it will do him good to find that some one has something which he cannot buy.”

“He will be immensely disappointed, for his heart was set on it,” said David Walker gloomily. His emotions were not untinged by personal dismay, for his commission would have been a large one.

He returned forthwith to his client, who was expecting him, and who met him at the door.

“Well, Walker, what did the maiden ladies say? Have one of these,” he exclaimed, exhibiting some large cigars elaborately wrapped in gold foil. “They’re something peculiarly choice which a friend of mine–a Cuban–obtained for me.”

“They won’t sell, Mr. Anderson.”

The furniture king frowned. He was a heavily built but compact man who looked as though he were accustomed to butt his way through life and sweep away opposition, yet affable and easy-going withal.

“They won’t sell? You offered them my price?”

“It struck them as prodigious, but they were not tempted.”

“I’ve got to have it somehow. With this land added to theirs I should have the finest place on the shore.”