I see you note
here one hundred and fifty pounds shortage. What is your basis?"
"I weighed them myself."
Bart consulted his books. Then he turned again to Wacker.
"This consignment was shipped as nine hundred and fifty pounds," he
said. "It weighed that at the start."
"That's what the shipping agent says, yes."
"And you claim eight hundred pounds?"
"Exactly."
"It was weighed up here when received--nine hundred and fifty pounds."
"Come off!" jeered Wacker. "Wasn't I an express agent once and don't I
know the ropes? What receiving agent ever takes the trouble to
re-weigh!"
"My father did--I always do," announced Bart flatly.
"Even if you did," persisted Wacker, "what little one-horse agent dares
to dispute the big company's weight at the other end of the line?"
"Oh," observed Bart smoothly, "you think there is a sort of collusion,
do you?"
"Yes, I do--I am an expert!"
"Sorry to disturb the profundity of your calculations, Mr. Wacker," said
Bart quietly, "but in the present instance there could not possibly be
any mistake. Our scales were burned up in the fire. The new ones have
not yet arrived, and in the meantime, as a temporary accommodation, our
weighing is done up at the in-freight platform by the official weigh
master of the road.
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