“I thought you might be willing to let him have what little he wanted on credit. I’ll see that it’s paid for.”
“Why, he paid for the goods himself—fifty-eight cents.”
_“What!”_ exclaimed the fisherman, astonished.
“He bought a pound of tea, at fifty cents, and a pound of sugar, at eight cents, and paid for ’em.”
“Where’d he get the money?” asked Trafton.
“I am sure I don’t know. I supposed you gave it to him. He’s got more left. He paid for the articles with a two-dollar bill and he’s got a dollar and forty-two cents left!”
“The young hypocrite!” ejaculated John Trafton indignantly. “All the while he had this money he was worryin’ me for a quarter to buy some tea and a loaf of bread.”
“Looks rather mysterious—doesn’t it?” said the grocer.
“Mr. Sands,” said the fisherman, “I’ve took care of that boy ever since he was three year old, and that’s the way he treats me. He’s a young viper!”
“Jes so!” said Mr. Sands, who was a politic man and seldom contradicted his neighbors.