It was a long walk to the village, and once there he was glad enough to rest while the storekeeper put up the few things he desired. These he paid for in cash, for he did not wish to risk a refusal should he ask for trust.
“Your uncle was here—got some tobacco,” said the storekeeper. “He said you would pay for it.”
“He’ll have to pay for it himself, Mr. Sands,” answered Andy, firmly.
“Yes? All right, Andy, just as you say.”
“I pay for what I buy, and he can do the same.”
“Well, I don’t blame you, my boy.” And the look of the storekeeper spoke volumes. He handed over some change that was due. “By the way, did you know there was a real estate dealer in town to see you?” he inquired.
“A Mr. Hopton?”
“That’s the man.”
“When?”
“To-day,—only a few hours ago. I was telling him where you lived when your uncle came along for the tobacco. They talked a while together, and then went off.”