The voice of his aunt called him from the foot of the stairs, and he stepped outside the door to answer her. She wished to know if he was nearly ready, and he replied that he was.
“It will take some time to get to the church, Rodney, and the second bell will commence ringin’ pretty soon. We’d better start in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be down right soon,” was his assurance as he turned back into the room.
Spotty had abandoned the butt of his cigarette and risen to his feet; he was standing with his hands in his pockets, seeming deeply interested in one of the pictures hanging on the wall.
“Well,” he said, turning, “I guess I’ll skin along and leave ye. Jinks! you’re goin’ to look stylish to-day, Rod. Where’d you git all them good clothes?”
“My father blew himself on me when he decided to send me East. Reckon he wanted me to make a good appearance in the bosom of refined and cultured New England.”
“Even Barker doesn’t dress as swell as that. The only feller around here who ever did was Bern Hayden, and he certainly did put on the lugs; but he was a rotter. Hope you enjoy the sermon, old chap. Don’t let Aunt Priscil’ flirt with the new minister. Hee! hee! hee! So long.” With this final bit of pleasantry Davis departed, hurrying down the stairs and out of the house.
Grant finished dressing in a few moments and was ready to join his aunt. He paused to pick up his money and some keys and pocket trinkets which he had left lying on the table. Something caused him to hesitate as his fingers touched the little thin fold of bank bills, and he was suddenly struck with the idea that the money was not lying as he had dropped it. He counted it over, finding a five, two twos and two ones.
“Eleven dollars,” he muttered. “Why, I sure thought I had another two dollar bill. I would have sworn I was carrying thirteen dollars, besides the change in my pocket. It can’t be——”
He stood there frowning for several moments, plainly perplexed and undecided.