"You went and got me in f'r it that time."
"How so, Mr. Spackles? Don't you want to take Mis' Penny to the circus?"
"Course I do, but circuses cost money. I hain't got more 'n a quarter to my name."
"H'm!... Didn't calc'late I was askin' you to take a day of your time for nothin', did you? F'r a trip like this here, with a lot hangin' on to it, I'd say ten dollars was about the fittin' pay. What say?"
Mr. Spackles's beaming face was answer enough.
Grandmother Penny and Mr. Spackles went to the circus in a more or less surreptitious manner. It was a wonderful day, a successful day, such a day as neither of them had expected ever to see again, and when they drove home through the moonlight, across the mountains, their souls were no longer the souls of threescore and ten, but of twoscore and one.
"Great day, wa'n't it, Ellen?" said Mr. Spackles, softly.
"Don't call to mind nothin' approachin' it, James."
"You be powerful good company, Ellen."
"So be you, James."