Five minutes later, once more on the street, he was walking home with Benny. It was Benny who broke the long silence that had immediately fallen between them.
“Say, Mr. Smith, I’ll bet ye you’ll never be rich!”
Mr. Smith turned with a visible start.
“Eh? What? I’ll never be—What do you mean, boy?”
Benny giggled cheerfully.
“’Cause you paid Aunt Jane what she asked the very first time. Why, Aunt Jane never expects ter get what she asks, pa says. She sells him groceries in the store, sometimes, when Uncle Frank’s away, ye know. Pa says what she asks first is for practice—just ter get her hand in; an’ she expects ter get beat down. But you paid it, right off the bat. Didn’t ye see how tickled Aunt Jane was, after she’d got over bein’ surprised?”
“Why—er—really, Benny,” murmured Mr. Smith.
But Benny had yet more to say.
“Oh, yes, sir, you could have saved a lot every week, if ye hadn’t bit so quick. An’ that’s why I say you won’t ever get rich. Savin’ ’s what does it, ye know—gets folks rich. Aunt Jane says so. She says a penny saved ’s good as two earned, an’ better than four spent.”
“Well, really, indeed!” Mr. Smith laughed lightly. “That does look as if there wasn’t much chance for me, doesn’t it?”