"And Louise told me you'd taken her up to the drug store."
Sid shrugged his shoulders. "Guess I've a right to. What have you got to say about it?"
"Well," said John slowly, "She's my girl—"
Sid sneered.
"And we're going to get married on the money from the paper route when I grow up and—"
"Pooh!" Sid laughed unpleasantly. "Go ahead and save your money. I don't care. I'm spending mine—on her—and you can't stop me either."
Money, money, money! All he was hearing these days was about spending, not saving it, and Sid's words, as had his lady's, riled him not a little.
"I'm going to take her out, too," he shot back. "Won't be a cheap thing like sodas, either. We're going to the theater, we are, and then she'll promise not to speak to you any more. If she won't, I'll punch your face in, first time I catch you."
"Theater!" said Sid, so impressed that the concluding threat passed unheeded.
"Going to buy the tickets, this afternoon," John boasted. "Main floor seats at the 'Home'—seventy-five cents each! Don't you wish you were going?"