"It was my father's," said Tommy, with a strange huskiness in his throat.
"Don't know anything about that—got it from the agents for six years—like to see the deed, heh?" and he chuckled, a little ponderously.
Tommy looked downcast and hesitant, and the big man turned to his son.
"Well, well," he said, "I guess they'll know better next time. Take 'em down the drive, Ernie, and show 'em out decently."
The three walked silently down the old avenue.
At the gate, the pale boy turned to Tommy.
"Back my father's got more money than yours," he said.
Tommy's eyes swept him with a look of profound contempt, but a lump in his throat forbade retort, and he turned away silent.
Madge, dear little woman, saw the sorrow in his eyes, and held her peace, picking flowers from the bank as they walked slowly down the path.