To calculate stuff

Big Jim Sun is puffing on his pipe, stroking his bushy beard absentmindedly, when he feels a sudden tug on his shirt. Looking down, he notices a mousy, wild-haired child, not yet of an age to learn his letters.
- Well, hello there, young'un. Why is it you're tugging on my shirt?

Without a word, the child hands Big Jim a sealed envelope of brown paper, traditional looking. With a hand distractedly scratching his head, the child looks on as Big Jim turns the envelope over in his large hands, trying to discover the origin of the package, then suddenly takes off, running through one of Old Martha's fields. Setting his pipe at the corner of his mouth, a gesture helping him to focus while reading, Big Jim opens the envelope and starts to study this unexpected missive.

Dear Big Jim.

I thank you for your trade proposal. I have heard of you through the grapevine and your reputation is of an outstanding person as well as an accomplished, honest and fair trader. Unfortunately I cannot accept your offer, as similar items to your trading wares are already part of my catalogue. I hope, however, that we will be able to trade before the first snow comes in.

Sincerely yours,

Raggart

Stratfield upon Fairfax

Humming and puffing to himself, Big Jim Sun readjusts his pipe, sets down the letter and leans back in his chair, already thinking about his next trade proposal.