“Do you think I can trust the whole neighborhood, and only get one dollar in ten of what's due me?” spluttered Mr. Tudor. “Ministers ought to set a better example.”
“Ministers ought to get better pay,” said Grant.
“There's plenty don't get as much as your father. When do you expect to pay the rest, I'd like to know? I s'pose you expect me to go on trustin', and mebbe six months from now you'll pay me another eight dollars,” said the storekeeper, with withering sarcasm.
“I was going to tell you, if you hadn't interrupted me,” said Grant, “that we should probably have some more money for you to-morrow.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five dollars,” answered the boy, knowing that part of the money borrowed must go in other quarters. “Will that be satisfactory?”
“That's more like!” said Tudor, calming down. “Ef you'll pay that I'll give you a leetle more time on the rest. Do you want anything this mornin'? I've got some prime butter just come in.”
“I'll call for some articles this afternoon, Mr. Tudor. Here are the eight dollars. Please credit us with that sum.”
“Well, I've accomplished something,” said Grant to himself as he plodded homeward.