“Fifty cents on a dollar. That’s liberal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that is liberal,” Barclay admitted. “Have you made anything today?”
“Have I? Well, I reckon I have.”
“How much?”
“I’ve passed a ten and a five.”
“And that gives you seven and a half for your share?”
“Right you are, Barclay. Your knowledge of arithmetic does credit to your education. It’s plain your respected parent took great pains with your trainin’.”
“My respected parent,” repeated Barclay, frowning, “is about the meanest old skinflint you’ll find within a hundred miles. I found him out yesterday, and let him know that I was going to call again today, to raise a loan, but when I called the old fox was gone bag and baggage.”
“A shabby way to treat his offspring. I pity you, Jim. So you are left to the tender mercies of the world.”
“I don’t find ’em very tender,” growled Barclay. “Do you see that?” and he drew from his pocket about forty cents in change.