“I couldn’t guess. Millie had hers overhauled and the bill was ten dollars.”
“Gee whiz! Glad mine won’t be that much. But it will be three dollars,” said Tom ruefully.
“I’ll tell you, Tom. I’ve got five dollars—”
“As if I’d borrow money from a girl!”
“It isn’t borrowing. I’m just offering it to you till you earn it,” insisted Gloria. “It doesn’t make one bit of difference to me.”
Tom looked thoughtfully far ahead—clear past the blackberry clump. He needed that wheel. He was earning something worth while. He carried all the orders for the vegetable store in his handle-bar basket. Gloria saw his indecision and eagerly followed it.
“Go ahead, Tom. This is my own money—”
“Oh, I know that. You wouldn’t offer anyone else’s.”
“And I’ve just got it along with me. The folks who had our launch out just paid—”
“Wouldn’t that be your dad’s?”