Major Carey’s hand dropped from his cane.
“But he has given up the idea, you say?”
Mrs. Marshall waved her hand toward her son who sat nervously twisting his hat.
“I’ll give it up if I have to,” said Morey, further abashed, “but I don’t know what I’ll do with my motor engine. I’ve ordered that and I reckon it’s on the way.”
“These engines are rather expensive, are they not?” continued the Major quizzically.
“Oh, that depends,” answered Morey, “a new one is. This is a cheap one, second-hand. It cost only four hundred dollars.”
“You haven’t paid for it, have you?”
Morey looked up, shook his head and fell to twirling his hat again.
“I’m going to suggest that he countermand the order,” said Mrs. Marshall. “It really seems to me a piece of extravagance. What do you think, Major?”
Major Carey’s jaw had dropped and he was looking at Mrs. Marshall and Morey as if in deep thought. Recovering himself suddenly he made an effort to smile and then said: