“I’m very much obliged to you for my ride, Mr. Finkler,” he said stiffly.
“You are, eh? Well, don’t tell your friends up there to school that I gave you a lift.”
“Why not, sir?” asked Jack.
“Because,” responded the farmer with a grim smile, “they’d think you were lying. Huh! Get ap!”
Jack’s shopping took him only about ten minutes. After that, with the new straw hat on his head and his cap stuffed into his pocket, he strolled about in front of the stores for awhile, looking in at the windows and jingling the remaining coins in his possession tentatively. But he saw nothing that particularly appealed to him and so finally turned off of Main street and headed back toward Maple Ridge. Perhaps the thermometer had dropped a degree or two since he had left school, but the change wasn’t apparent and it was still uncomfortably warm. He wished he had not quarreled with Farmer Finkler. After all, the latter had not said nor done anything that Jack need have taken umbrage about. If the farmer didn’t like the Maple Ridgers, as he called them, and said so, why, the boys themselves frankly acknowledged that they had given him plenty of cause for that dislike. There was still time to retrace his steps to the drug store and save himself a long, hot walk to school. But after thinking it over Jack decided that he would rather walk than humble himself to the school’s hereditary enemy. Besides, there was the chance that some one else would be going his way and would give him a lift. He looked back in the hope that a trolley car would appear and help him over the first stage of his journey, but none was in sight and rather than stand there on the sun-smitten pavement and wait for one he walked on.
Ten minutes later he was wondering whether, after all, Farmer Finkler might not be right in his theory regarding straw hats, for the one on Jack’s head was decidedly hot! He took it off and wiped the perspiration from the leather band. Then he wiped his forehead. Then he put the hat on again, tilting it toward the back of his head to relieve his forehead. So absorbed in these proceedings was he that he didn’t hear Farmer Finkler until that gentleman had pulled the horse down to a walk and spoke.
“Nice and cool, ain’t it?” There was a gleam of amusement in the farmer’s eyes. Jack turned in surprise.
“Not very,” replied Jack, with a smile.
“Whoa!” The farmer stopped his horse. “Climb in,” he said. “I waited for you awhile at the drug store, but you didn’t come.”
Jack hesitated a moment. Then he swallowed his pride and got into the buggy. “It’s pretty warm walking,” he murmured apologetically.