The worried expression on the historian’s face gave place to a broad grin.
“Why?” demanded Victor.
“Because I’m stranded—broke—cast into the seething vortex of life without gold, silver, nickel, or even copper to lend me a helping hand.”
“How in the dickens did such a thing as that happen?”
“It’s this way, Vic: after I’d paid my way out to Chicago I didn’t have a red cent left. So I was obliged to throw myself on the tender mercies of the crowd until we reach Milwaukee.”
“Isn’t this all another joke?” queried Victor, suspiciously.
“Not a bit of it, Vic.”
“Well, if they’ve been lending you cash how is it you’re broke?”
“I was going to get another five from Bob this morning.”
Victor’s eyes began to twinkle. Then, like a flash, his mood completely changed. A wide grin merged into a laugh; his slender form shook with a perfect storm of merriment, while Benjamin, from the doorway, looked on with wondering eyes.