“Well, let's see the amount of the disappointment," said Beecham laughingly.
Jack Beecham, of late, could not, as he himself expressed it, “make out” his friend Roy. Several times since the beginning of September he had surprises from Henning. He was beginning to regard him as an uncertain or even an unknown quantity. Was his friend becoming miserly? This idea made Jack Beecham laugh. Roy misanthropical! The clever, bright, jolly Roy doing aught but loving all mankind was absurd to think of, but yet—There certainly had come over his bright, genial friend a change which was puzzling. What could——
But his thoughts, as he stood expectantly, with his pencil and notebook in hand, were interrupted by what Roy said next:
“You may put me down for two dollars and fifty cents.” Shealey only partly suppressed a giggle, supposing that Roy, as usual, was hoaxing. Roy saw the laugh and was deeply hurt.
“Phew,” began Jack Beecham, and he was about to make a very straightforward remark when he caught a side view of poor Roy's face, which was suffused with the blushes of mortification. There was a look of positive pain there.
Good, sensible Jack at once saw there was something wrong somewhere. Hastily changing his pencil from right hand to left, he took Roy's hand and pressed it warmly, sympathetically. The action told more than words could do. Beecham gave a quick glance toward the door for Shealey, which that individual understood and immediately departed.
When they were alone Jack said:
“You are in trouble, Roy. Is there—is there any financial difficulty at home?”
“None whatever, Jack; but I can't explain.”