“It started after Mr. Carpenter’s last trip up from San Francisco. And——”
“Carpenter, the fruit-buyer?”
“Yes. He handed over all the Manzanita shipping and paying to Homer, you know.”
“Homer’s Business College trainin’ come in handy that time,” said the Judge proudly.
“I hope he’ll never forget that he’s got you to thank for his education,” she went on. “You’ve been more than a brother to him—ever since he was in his baby-buggy and you were a little fellow. Mother says so. Just because his father was dead.”
“His maw has allus been sickly,” reminded the Judge. “An’ I ain’t missed the little I paid out for him. He’s a fine boy, that’s what he is. There ain’t a finer or a handsomer or a stylisher boy in town. An’ he’s smart. Didn’t them Business College fellers hand him a medal for fancy penmanship? So there’s a few people in this town that’s jealous of him. Wal, who cares?”
She rose and stepped forward to the desk. “Gid,” she said, “I hate to tell you. But I must. Oh, I knew you’d be the last person to hear anything!”
“What can man, woman or child find to say agin Homer Scott?” he asked huskily.
“Since Mr. Carpenter went Homer’s acted different. He hasn’t been over to our house lately, or to see his other friends. He goes to the Occidental Hotel of evenings—with Jim Luce and his crowd.”
“And——?” He was leaning forward once more.