"Well, you old turtle doves," said Fred, "what's the price of dollar razors to-day? I want to buy one so that I can razor rumpus."
"Dawson," said Betty severely, yet with a twinkle in her eye, "please throw this person out of the house. A man who makes puns on Sunday is breaking the Sabbath."
"Never mind the Sabbath," said Fred. "If you will ask me to break bread with you I will stay. What's doing?"
"Well," I said, "I suppose we shall have to ask him, sha'n't we, Betty?"
Then we stopped fooling, and began to talk of general matters. I told him about Larry Friday.
"Poor old Larry," said Fred.
"Why poor old Larry?" I asked, with a sinking feeling in my heart.
"Why the poor devil only got clear of the bankruptcy court three months ago. You know he tried to run the Providence business after his father died, but he made a bad mess of it. Still, I guess he's learned his lesson."
I had a cold feeling around my heart, and I began to wish that I had heeded Betty's advice. A five hundred dollar note is not much to endorse, if a fellow's got the money; but—
"But can he?" I heard Betty ask.