He got up to go out.
“Good afternoon,” says Mr. Hamilton as pleasant as pie.
“Huh!” grunts Skip. “G-by, mister.” And out he went.
I almost jumped out of my skin. Three hundred dollars! It was ours, and we’d made it as honest as could be. We had to have three hundred dollars, and there was old Mark Tidd with a way to do it. I just looked at him and couldn’t say a word. He was looking at me out of the corner of his eye to see how I took it, and he was looking pretty well satisfied with himself, too. I guess it was plain for him to see what a great man I thought he was, for he grinned as pleased as could be.
“Guess that fixes Skip and his chattel m-m-mortgage,” says he.
“Yes,” says I, “and it fixes other things. It fixes it so the Smalley family has something to live on when my dad comes out of the hospital, and it fixes it so my mother will think you’re the greatest man that ever lived. I hain’t goin’ to say thank you, Mark, not me. I couldn’t do it right; but you wait till I tell mother. She’ll know what to say. Don’t forget that a minute. She’ll know....” I quit talking right there because I was afraid I’d choke up and have to quit and act foolish.
We went into the office and Mr. Hamilton handed us the money. He kept shaking his head all the time and looking at Mark.
“Tidd,” says he, “if I ever get a big case, one that takes more brains than most men have got to win it, I’m going to send over to Wicksville for you, I am. Will you come and help me out?”
Mark knew he was fooling, but all the same it was pretty complimentary fooling.
“Glad to come,” says he, “any time.”