CHAPTER XXVII
AMZI'S PERFIDY
In accommodating himself to the splendors of the enlarged bank room, Amzi had not abandoned his old straw hat and seersucker coat, albeit the hat had been decorated with a dab of paint by some impious workman, and the coat would not have been seriously injured by a visit to the laundry.
Amzi was observing the new façade that had been tacked onto the building, when Phil drove up in the machine. This was the afternoon of the 3d of July. Phil and her father were camping for a week in their old haunt in Turkey Run, and she had motored into town to carry Amzi to his farm, where he meant to spend the Glorious Fourth in the contemplation of the wheat Fred had been harvesting.
Phil had experienced a blow-out on her way to town, a fact to which the state of her camping clothes testified.
"Thunder!" said Amzi; "you look as though you had crawled halfway in."
"A naughty nail in a bridge plank was the sinner," she explained.
She jumped out and was admiring the alterations, which had eliminated the familiar steps to the old room, when Mrs. Waterman emerged from a neighboring shop.