“Then you’ll have to do it by and by. The interest on the bond is crippling you.”
“Well.” Clavering lighted another cigar. “I told you to be straight. Go right on. Tell me just what you would do if the place was in your hands.”
“Sell out those cattle and take the big loan up. Clear off the imported horses and pedigree brood mares. You have been losing more dollars than many a small rancher makes over them the last few years.”
“I like good horses round the place,” Clavering said languidly.
“The trouble,” said Hopkins, “is that you can’t afford to have them. Then, I would cut down my personal expenses by at least two-thirds. The ranch can’t stand them. Do you know what you have been spending in the cities?”
“No. I gave you a bundle of bills so you could find it out.”
Hopkins’ smile was almost contemptuous. “I guess you had better burn them when I am through. I’ll mention one or two items. One hundred dollars for flowers; one thousand in several bills from Chicago jewellers! The articles would count as an asset. Have you got them?”
“I haven’t,” said Clavering. “They were for a lady.”
“Well,” said Hopkins, “you know best; but one would have fancied there was more than one of them from the bills. Here’s another somewhat curious item: hats—I guess they came from Paris—and millinery, two hundred dollars’ worth of them!”
A little angry light crept into Clavering’s eyes. “If I hadn’t been so abominably careless you wouldn’t have seen those bills. I meant to put them down as miscellaneous and destroy the papers. Well, I’ve done with that extravagance, any way, and it’s to hear the truth I’m paying you quite a big fee. If I go on just as I’m doing, how long would you give me?”