"Humph!" he grunted. "I should say you HAD
hold of money two-thirds of every day. Feller that works in a bank
is supposed to handle some cash."
"Yes, of course," with an impatient laugh, "but that is somebody
else's money, not mine. I want to get some of my own."
"Sho! . . . Well, I cal'late I could let you have ten or twenty
dollars right now, if that would be any help to you."
"It wouldn't; thank you just the same. If it was five hundred
instead of ten, why--perhaps I shouldn't say no."
Jed was startled.
"Five hundred?" he repeated. "Five hundred dollars? Do you need
all that so very bad, Charlie?"
Phillips, his foot upon the threshold of the outer shop, turned and
looked at him.
"The way I feel now I'd do almost anything to get it," he said, and
went out.
Jed told no one of this conversation, although his friend's parting
remark troubled and puzzled him. In fact it troubled him so much
that at a subsequent meeting with Charles he hinted to the latter
that he should be glad to lend the five hundred himself.
"I ought to have that and some more in the bank," he said. "Sam
would know whether I had or not. . . . Eh? Why, and you would,
too, of course. I forgot you know as much about folks' bank
accounts as anybody. . . . More'n some of 'em do themselves,
bashfulness stoppin' me from namin' any names," he added.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317