Enos laughed indulgently.
“Clothes, eh? You needn’t be modest about that. I don’t rec’lect her havin’ any new ones for years, but it’s all right, I guess. I’m payin’ the bills. Trot it out an’ I’ll settle right now an’ glad to.”
The man looked relieved. “If it’s perfectly convenient?” he said.
“Perfectly,” puffed Enos. “I’ve got the stuff ready for any little thing that may come up.”
He unfolded the paper and glanced at the total under a short list of items. It was just thirty-five dollars.
Matchett gazed at the figures, too appalled to change countenance beyond a drop of the jaw.
Slowly, he pulled out his precious roll, and counted the money into the other’s hands.
“Receipt that bill!” he grunted.
“I’m ever so much obliged,” said the man glibly, his eyes on the paper as he signed the long name of a well known dry goods house, “and I wish you would explain to Mrs. Matchett.”
“I will,” returned Enos shortly.