"How much would all that come to?" asked Whitey, a little apprehensively.
The clerk figured it up. "One hundred and sixty-eight dollars and forty cents," he said cheerfully.
A hurried audit of the finances of the party revealed the fact that the cash capital on hand amounted to two thirty-six!
"Just send them up to the house," said Whitey, loftily, and he gave the name and the address. One of the proprietors stood near and listened smilingly to the whole transaction; and when the boys had gone, he went to the telephone.
Mr. Sherwood, in his office, picked up the receiver, and a familiar voice came over the wire: "Hello, Sherwood! This is Robertson. Your boy was just in here with some friends and bought out the store! He's evidently going out West—with a vengeance!"
"Is that so?" laughed Mr. Sherwood. "What did he buy?"
"I can tell you what he didn't buy easier than what he did! The bill amounts to one hundred and sixty-eight, forty. What do you want me to do?—he said to send the stuff up to the house!" and Robertson laughed the good-natured laugh of a man who appreciates boys.
"Great Jehosaphat!" said Mr. Sherwood. "What kind of a selection did he make?"
"Well," answered Mr. Robertson, "it isn't altogether bad, but of course, he's got a lot of things that he won't need at all. It's June, and he has selected an elegant pair of snow-shoes!"
"My, my!" exclaimed Mr. Sherwood. "Can you beat it?"