"
Bewilderment spread like a gray mist across the painty features of the
Mordaunt Estate. "Nothin' doin'," he began, "until--"
"Don't decide hastily," adjured the young man. "Take this coin." He
forced a half-dollar into the reluctant hand of the decorator.
"Nothin' doin' on account, either. Pay as you enter."
"Only one of us is going to enter. The coin decides. Spin it. Your
call," he said to the butterfly.
"Heads," cried the butterfly.
"Tails," proclaimed the arbiter, as the silver shivered into silence on
the flagging.
"Then the house is yours," said the butterfly. "Good luck go with it."
She smiled, gamely covering her disappointment.
"I don't want it," returned the young man.
"Play fair," she exhorted him. "We both agreed solemnly to stand by the
toss. Didn't we?"
"What did we agree?"
"That the winner should have the choice."
"Very well. I won, didn't I?"
"You certainly did."
"And I choose not to take the house," he declared triumphantly. "It's a
very nice house, but"--he shaded his eyes as he directed them upon the
proud-pied facade, blinking significantly--"I'd have to wear smoked
glasses if I lived in it, and they don't suit my style of beauty."
"You'd not get it now, young feller, if you was to go down on your knees
with a thousand dollars in each hand," asserted the offended Estate.
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