"Brinkley's," promptly answered the trio, with longing eyes fixed upon the golden flood of syrup cooling in the window.
"Though Dawley's is bigger," added Irene.
"Do they make much money?"
"They ought to. Prices are high enough," answered Susie with a comically grown-up air.
"Most of the miners trade at Dawley's, 'cause he don't hurry 'em so about paying," said Inez naively. "But the Carsons and Catts and Dr. Hayes, and those folks buy at Brinkley's, 'cause his stuff is nicer."
"We did trade there," began Irene, but Susie interrupted, "Most of our stuff comes from Los Angeles now. It's cheaper to trade that way, and anyhow, papa knows the man real well, and now that he's sick in the hospital, he doesn't have to worry about pay day all the time, for this man will wait till he is well enough to work again."
"When is pay day?" casually inquired the man. "I mean how often does it come?"
"Once a month—the fifteenth."
The stranger's eyes glittered with satisfaction, and he muttered, "The fifteenth,—that's to-morrow."
"What did you say?" asked Susie.