"You are—or do you mean that your wife is?"
Ab. Dexter winked. He had not looked for the youngster to be so keen.
"Prescott, take it from an older man. It doesn't make so much difference, in this world, where the money comes from, if a fellow only has it."
"I guess, from your actions, that's about the way you feel about it, Dexter," rejoined the boy.
"Don't you feel the same way?"
"No; I'd like to be worth a million dollars, Dexter, but I don't believe I ever shall be."
"Why not?"
"Because the opportunities for getting a million honestly are not very plentiful, and I wouldn't have a dollar—or a million—with a stain on it!"
"You simpleton!" sneered Dexter.
"There are a few of us left in the world," Dick retorted complacently. "But you, Dexter, you wouldn't care whether it was money or slime, as long as you could spend it!"