“No, no! Nothing of the sort!” said the physician quickly. “I—I didn’t mean that. I—I thought I had more money than I have. But—er—I must——”
“You spent it, and you’ve forgotten all about it,” declared Mrs. Sandow with a hard laugh. “You’re always doing that, Lemuel. Didn’t you pay for two tons of coal this afternoon?”
“That’s so, I guess I must have, but I don’t recollect about it. Did any coal come?”
“Of course,” answered Mrs. Sandow, quickly, and Tom, looking up suddenly, saw her making some kind of a motion to her husband.
“Then that must be where the money went,” agreed the doctor. “I’m sorry I’m so forgetful. It may interfere with my new book. I don’t mind the money, but I like to know where I spend it.”
“Probably you wasted it on books,” said Mr. Sandow, half growling out the words.
“No, I never waste money on books, and I only spent ten dollars for one to-day.”
“Ten dollars for a book!” gasped Mrs. Sandow. “You’ll be in the poorhouse soon, at that rate.”
“It was a very rare volume,” pleaded her brother-in-law. “I—I couldn’t very well let it go.”
“Humph!” sniffed the woman. “You’ll wish you had that money some day. But it’s time you went to bed. You’re forgetting it’s past your hour.”