“You don't tell me!” said the deacon, scandalized. “You folks must be terrible extravagant.”
Grant hardly knew whether to be more vexed or amused.
“If wanting to have enough to eat is extravagant,” he said, “then we are.”
“You must live on the fat of the land, Grant.”
“We haven't any of us got the gout, nor are likely to have,” answered Grant, provoked. “But let us come back to business. Have you got any money for father?”
Now it so happened that Deacon Gridley had fifty dollars collected, but he thought he knew where he could let it out for one per cent, for a month, and he did not like to lose the opportunity.
“I'm sorry to disappoint you, Grant,” he answered, “but folks are slow about payin' up, and—”
“Haven't you got any money collected?” asked Grant, desperately.
“I'll tell you what I'll do,” said the deacon, with a bright idea. “I've got fifty dollars of my own—say for a month, till I can make collections.”
“That would be very kind,” said Grant, feeling that he had done the deacon an injustice.