"Whose money is that?" he demanded abruptly.
"It is mine."
"I don't believe it. You are carrying it over to some one in Chester."
"Perhaps I am; but, if so, that some one is my mother."
"You don't mean to say that you have sixty dollars of your own?"
"Yes, I do. You didn't think I had so much money—eh, Phil?" he retorted, with a smile.
"I don't believe a word of it," returned Phil crossly. "It is ridiculous that a boy like you should have so much money. It can't be yours."
"Do you doubt it, Miss Marion?" asked Grit, turning to the young lady.
"No; I believe that it is yours since you say so."