"Well, you're a good deal fatter yourself, than you were when I first seen you," said Uncle Bobbie, looking him over with a critical eye.
"Yes," admitted Dick, "I guess I am; these are my fat years you know.
I'm getting to look at those lean ones as a very bad dream."
Dick's young helper handed them a proof-sheet, and after looking over the work for a few moments, Mr. Wicks said: "That new Association meets t'-night, don't it?" Dick nodded; and the old gentleman continued carelessly, as he arose to go, "Stop fer me when you go by, will you? An' we'll go down t'gether."
"But I'm not going," said Dick, quickly. Uncle Bobbie dropped back in his seat with a jar and grasped the arms of his chair, as though about to be thrown bodily to the ceiling. "Not goin'," he gasped; "Why, what's the matter with you?" And he glared wildly at the young man.
"Nothing particularly new is the matter," said Dick, smiling at the old gentleman's astonishment. "My reason is that I cannot become a member of the Association when it is organized, and so have no right to attend the meeting to-night. I may go in after a time, but I cannot now."
"Why not?" said Mr. Wicks, still glaring.
"Because I haven't the money."
Uncle Bobbie settled back in his chair with a sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all? To-be-sure, I thought mebbe you'd got your back up 'bout somthin'."
"Yes, that's all," said Dick quietly, and did not explain how he had spent everything in his search for the wealthy hardware merchant's daughter. But perhaps Uncle Bobbie needed no explanation.
"Well, let me tell you, you're goin' anyhow; and you're goin' t' have votin' power too. Be a pretty kettle o' fish if after that speech of your'n, you weren't in the company. Be like tryin' to make a cheese 'thout any milk."