“Thanks,” cried Spotty eagerly. “This bright blue one just about hits me.”
“You seem to like bright colors.”
“I guess I do, reds and blues in particular.”
“Well, I’ve got a red one somewhere that you may have also,” said Rod, rummaging in the drawer, from which he removed handkerchiefs, collars and various other articles. “I don’t care for it much. I wonder where the thing is. I believe I threw it on the top shelf in the closet.” He opened the closet door and stepped inside, leaving Davis, who had risen to his feet, inspecting and admiring those articles of personal adornment which had been brought forth from the drawer.
In a few minutes, discovering the red necktie, Rod reappeared and passed it over, Spotty again expressing his thanks.
“I’ll cut a swell with this,” grinned the visitor.
They chatted a while longer, and finally Davis took his departure.
The following day Spotty loafed around the village, proudly wearing the red necktie.
Saturday dawned cold, bleak and threatening; the sky was heavy and the air chill and penetrating; it was one of those depressing winter mornings which gives a person in the country a feeling of loneliness.
Springer and Piper, on their way past Barker’s home, saw Berlin appear in the open stable door with a piece of rope in his hand. They stopped and called to him, and he beckoned.