“He was out late last night.”
“Carousing with my fifty dollars, I suppose.”
“I hope not.” Mrs. Grant rose and went through the screen door. Five minutes later she returned with her son.
As Elsie had remarked, Harry Grant was a good-looking man. He was stylishly dressed, in an immaculate linen suit, and he came out smiling nonchalantly at his aunt, as if the whole thing were a joke.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” he exclaimed, staring incredulously at Mary Louise and Jane. “Are these the girls Mother says I took for a ride last night?”
“It’s a terrible car,” remarked Jane.
Miss Grant stamped her foot to put a stop to what she considered nonsensical talk.
“Tell me just how you managed to steal my money, Harry,” she commanded. “And where the other fifty-dollar bill is—and my five hundred in gold.”
The young man’s chin went up in the air.
“I didn’t steal your money, Aunt Mattie,” he said. “I was never inside your bedroom in my life—at least, not since I was grown up!”