The teller took the check back and showed it to a bespectacled man who, with two other strangers, were at the books. He explained in a whisper about the Elder’s deal and the man with spectacles nodded.
In a few minutes Elder Concannon came out of the bank and tossed a heavy sack into the tonneau, for he had been obliged to take some of the money in coin. Janice smiled at him radiantly.
“Is it all right?” she asked, eagerly.
“I got it,” said the Elder, grimly. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have got it to-morrow. Ye can smell trouble in that bank, and lots of folks will wake up to it when ’tis too late. But you saved me, Janice Day, and I hope you don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”
CHAPTER XXVII
THE ECHO AGAIN
The first flakes of snow, riding on the strong westerly gale, met them as the Kremlin struck into the Upper Road coming from Middletown once more. Before Janice dropped the Elder—and his money—at his door, the snow was making a good showing in the frozen ruts and the fence corners.
When Marty helped her run the car into the garage, he said, with a grin:
“You can kiss your ortermobile good-bye for the winter now, Janice. We’re a-goin’ to git it for fair, so the paper says. We’ll have a white Christmas all right, all right.”
“And we’ll have an extra nice Christmas, I hope,” rejoined his cousin. “Guess what you’re going to get, Marty?”
“No, I won’t!” declared the boy. “I don’t want to even think of it. I know what I want, and if I sh’d guess right it’d just spoil Christmas for me. Ain’t I the big kid?”