factory." 

 "Bless my soul!" ejaculated the colonel, rising hastily. "He hasn't actually sold it, has he?" 

 "He has given Mr. Gamble an option on it," Polly was happy to state. 

 "You don't say!" exploded the colonel. "Why, what does Johnny Gamble want with it?" 

 "He didn't tell; but I think he's organizing a shoe-manufacturing company," lied Polly glibly. 

 "Goodness me!" muttered the colonel, and, breathing heavily, he cursed his procrastination heartily to himself, threw discretion to the winds and hurried down to the Boyden box just as Gresham returned. His greeting to the other occupants was but perfunctory, and then he turned to Gresham with: "You haven't sold your property adjoining my factory, have you, Gresham?" 

 "Well, I've given Mr. Gamble an option on it," admitted Gresham reluctantly. 

 "For how much?" 

 "That would be telling," interposed Gamble. 

 "For how long is your option?" the colonel demanded. 

 "Thirty days." 

 "What are you buying it for—investment or improvement?" 

 "That would be telling again." 

 "Will you sell it?" 

 "Depends on the price." 

 "What'll you take for it?" 

 "Fifty-five thousand." 

 "Bless my soul!" exclaimed the colonel. "Why, man, that's robbery! I'll never pay it. I'll take a chance on waiting until your option expires, then I'll do business with Gresham. Gresham, what will you want for the property if Gamble, or WHEN Gamble doesn't take it up?" 

 "Fifty thousand," said Gresham, and glanced darkly at Gamble. 

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