“Why, you’ve had it mended, sir,” she cried. “I feel I ought to pay for it, since it was my carelessness which broke it.”
“I’m glad you did,” he laughed. “If you hadn’t I shouldn’t have got this.” He looked at it with pride. “Do you know, Mrs. Kinney, I like this one better.”
“It makes the other ones look common though,” she commented.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I think I shall have to replace them, too.”
CHAPTER XIX
TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME
ONE day, months before the affair of the ten ambulances, Horace Weems had seen Anthony Trent about to enter Xeres’ excellent restaurant. Lacking no assurance Weems tacked himself on to his friend.
“Say, do you feed here?” he demanded and looked with respect at his friend’s raiment.
“Only when I’m hungry,” Trent retorted. He knew it was useless to try to get rid of Weems. “Have you dined?”
“Thanks,” said Weems, “I don’t mind if I do.”
In those days Weems was proud as the owner of the finest camp on Lake Kennebago. He was high stomached and generous of advice. He told Trent so much of a certain stock—a gold mine in Colorado—that at last he purchased a considerable interest in it. Later he learned that Weems had unloaded worthless stock on him. Trent bore no sort of malice. He had gone into the thing open-eyed and Weems, as he knew of yore, never sold at a loss.