Read The Fourth Estate for Free Online Page A

button.
    The boy
remembered that Mr. Lekski never replied to a question with an answer, but
always with another question.
    “What do you
have to offer?” he inquired in the man’s native tongue.
    The farmer
lowered his sack onto the ground. “Six spuds,” he said.
    Lubji shook his
head. “I would need at least twelve potatoes for something as valuable as
that,” he said, holding the button up in the sunlight so that his potential
customer could take a closer look.
    The farmer
scowled.
    “Nine,” he said
finally.
    “No,” replied
Lubji firmly. “Always remember that my first offer is my best offer.” He hoped
he sounded like Mr. Lekski dealing with an awkward customer.
    The farmer shook
his head, picked up the sack of potatoes, threw it over his shoulder and headed
off toward the center of the town. Lubji wondered if he had made a bad mistake
by not accepting the nine potatoes. He cursed, and rearranged the objects on
the box to better advantage, leaving the brooch in the center.
    “And how much
are you expecting to get for that?” asked another customer, pointing down at
the brooch.
    “What do you
have to offer in exchange?” asked Lubji, switching to Hungarian.
    “A sack of my
best grain,” said the farmer, proudly removing a bag from a laden donkey and
dumping it in front of Lubji.
    “And why do you
want the brooch?” asked Lubji, remembering another of Mr. Lekski’s techniques.
    “It’s my wife’s
birthday tomorrow,” he explained, “and I forgot to give her a present last
year.”
    “I’ll trade this
beautiful heirloom, which has been in my family for several generations,” Lubji
said, holding up the brooch for him to study, “in exchange for that ring an
your finger. . .”
    “But my ring is
gold,” said the farmer, laughing, “and your brooch is only silver.”
    “ ... and a bag of your grain,” said Lubji,
as if he hadn’t been given the chance to complete his sentence.
    “You must be
mad,” replied the farmer.
    “This brooch was
once worn by a great aristocrat before she fell on hard times, so I’m bound to
ask: is it not worthy of the woman who has borne your children?” Lubji had no
idea if the man had any children, but charged on: “Or is she to be forgotten
for another year?”
    The Hungarian
fell silent as he considered the child’s words. Lubji replaced the brooch in
the center of the box, his eyes resting fixedly on it, never once looking at
the ring.
    “The ring I
agree to,” said the farmer finally, “but not the bag of grain as well.”
    Lubji frowned as
he pretended to consider the offer. He picked up the brooch and studied it
again in the sunlight. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “But only because it’s
your wife’s birthday.” Mr. Lekski had taught him always to allow the customer
to feel he had the better of the bargain. The farmer quickly removed the heavy
gold ring from his finger and grabbed the brooch.
    No sooner had
tile bargain been completed than Lubji’s first customer returned, carrying an
old spade. He dropped his half-empty sack of potatoes onto the ground in front
of the boy.
    “I’ve changed my
mind,” said the Czech. “I will give you twelve spuds for the button.”
    But Lubji shook
his head. “I now want fifteen,” he said without looking up.
    “But this
morning you only wanted twelve!”
    “Yes, but since then
you have traded half of your potatoes-and I Suspect the better half-for that
spade,” Lubji said ...
    The farmer
hesitated.
    “Come back
tomorrow,” said Lubji. “By then I’ll want twenty.”
    The scowl
returned to the Czech’s face, but this time he didn’t pick up his bag and march
off. “I accept,” he said angrily and began to remove some potatoes from the top
of the sack.
    Lubji shook his
head again.
    “What do you
want now?” he shouted at the boy. “I thought we had a bargain.”
    “You have seen
my button,” said Lubji, “but I haven’t seen your potatoes.
    It’s only right
that I should make