“I’ve got a dandy joke on you, Cal,” he announced. There was no reply for a moment. Cal was pawing anxiously at the contents of the till. At last, though,
“Is it—is it anything about my money?” he asked.
“No. What about your money?”
“It—it’s gone!”
“Oh, get out!” exclaimed Ned, sitting suddenly upright. Cal nodded, frowning perplexedly at the till.
“I’m sure it was here, Ned,” he said. “And last night I dreamed of burglars again. It’s gone where yours went, I cal’late.”
“But that’s—that’s piffle!” cried Ned. “Burglars couldn’t come in here and—” He paused, a light breaking upon him. Then he threw his feet into the air and subsided backwards on the bed, laughing at the top of his lungs. Cal stood up and viewed him at first with alarm and then with disgust.
“Mighty funny, ain’t it?” he demanded. “There was ’most six dollars there!”
“Look—look in the apple drawer!” gurgled Ned between paroxysms.
“Huh?”