“Jiminy, Arn, I never thought I’d get that back, did you?”
“I never did, Toby. You certainly were lucky. He wasn’t such a bad sort after all, was he?”
“N—no.” Toby gazed thoughtfully at the busy scene before them. “I dare say there’s a lot in what he said, Arn. About getting started right, I mean. I guess lots of folks wouldn’t be dishonest if they’d had the right sort of—of bringing up, eh?”
“I guess so. Look here, it’s nearly one o’clock! What’ll you do about buying your presents?”
“I guess it’s too late now.” Toby’s face fell.
“I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll find a telephone and send word we won’t be home for luncheon, eh? We’ll get a bite to eat somewhere and then you can shop until nearly three. You can do a lot in two hours. What do you say?”
“Would you mind? I’d like awfully to do that.”
“Not a bit. It’ll be fun. I know a place near here where we can get fine eats. Come on!”
But, although Toby came on, when Arnold turned to speak to him a minute later he wasn’t there. Impatiently Arnold turned back. Toby had paused a few yards in the rear.
“For the love of mud, Toby, get a move on, can’t you?” exclaimed Arnold. “What’s wrong now?”