Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr.Titmouse." "But we haven't come to any understanding yet," cried the wagon's owner as Dick turned and walked away.
"Why, yes, we have, sir," Prescott answered pleasantly over his shoulder.

"We have come to the understanding that you can't afford to come down to our price, and that we can't go up to yours.
So I'm going back to make some other arrangements for a wagon." "Wait a minute!" interjected Newbegin Titmouse, stepping after the boy from Gridley.

"Maybe I can drop off a dollar or so on the price." "Much obliged, sir; but it wouldn't help us any, and it's almost time for the car," was Prescott's answer.
"What's your best offer?
Make it!" urged Mr.Titmouse restlessly.
"Seven dollars for the wagon for the month of August," Prescott replied.
"Seven?
Why, only a minute or two ago you offered me ten dollars!" "I know it, sir," said Dick coolly.

"You will recall that you declined that offer, so I am at liberty to make a new offer." "You'll have to make a better-----" "If you decline seven dollars," Dick smiled pleasantly, "my next offer, if I make one, will not go above six." Mr.Titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school boy would stand by that threat.
"Seven dollars doesn't land me clear for the season," complained Newbegin Titmouse.

"I've spent nine dollars already in advertising the wagon." "Then, if you don't take my seven dollars," Prescott proposed, "you'll be out quite a bit of money, Mr.Titmouse.