"Yes, we get the very best at Kentfield."
"Hum! If I was runnin' this place I'd buy the cheaper cuts, and save money. Tough meat is better for growing lads, anyhow. I wouldn't give 'em such expensive meat."
"But we pay for it, Mr. Larabee."
"It's a waste of money," replied the miser, and went on with the meal, which, to do Dick justice, was exceptionally good. Dick never believed in starving even his ill-natured relatives.
"Hurray! This is great!" suddenly exclaimed the young millionaire. "Whoop! Oh, I say, excuse me, Uncle Ezra!" he added, quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you," for the aged man had jumped at Dick's exclamation, and some potato, covered with gravy, had fallen on his trousers.
"That's jest like you boys—allers shoutin' and makin' a noise," rasped out Mr. Larabee. "I'll have to pay for havin' that spot taken out," and he scrubbed vigorously at it with a napkin. "That is, unless my hired man can start it with some of my harness soap. I guess I'll have him try when I get back. No use payin' a cleaner if my hired man can do it."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Ezra," spoke Dick, contritely, and trying not to smile at Paul Drew. "We can take it out here for you. A little ether will do the trick. It will dissolve the grease. I'll take you to the chemical laboratory after lunch."
"No, the ether might eat a hole in my pants, and they're my second best ones. I'll wait until I git hum, and try the harness soap. Next time please don't yell so."
"I won't, Uncle Ezra. But dad sent me some good news, and I just couldn't help it."