LITMIR.BIZ

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should it, mother?”

      “When you have no money to pay for it.”

      “Mother, did you ever know me to tell a lie?”

      “No, Grant.”

      “Then, when I tell you that I’ve got money enough to pay for this suit, and more, too, you can believe me.”

      “Was it got honestly, Grant?”

      “Of course it was.”

      “And the money is really and truly yours?”

      “It is.”

      “Are you willing to tell me where you got it?”

      “Not just yet, mother. I will before long.”

      “Well, Grant, I will trust your word,” said Mrs. Tarbox, relieved, “and I am really glad of your good fortune.”

      “You won’t worry any more, then, mother?”

      “No, Grant.”

      “I am glad you haven’t lost confidence in me.”

      Grant took an opportunity, after supper, to go to Luke Weldon’s, and draw twenty-five dollars. On his way back he called at the tailor’s, and paid Mr. Shick for his suit in advance. The remaining five dollars, in silver, he kept in his pocket.

      “It is so long since I carried any money,” he said to himself, “that I want to know how it seems.”

      Meanwhile Jotham Perry, a neighbor, called at the farm-house on an errand.

      “That’s a pretty bad thing, the breaking down of the railroad bridge, isn’t it?”

      “I haven’t heard of it,” said Seth Tarbox, pricking up his ears.

      “Sho! I thought everybody knew it.”

      “How did it happen?”

      “I don’t know, except it gave way from old age. It’s long been shaky.”

      “When was it found out?”

      “This afternoon, just before the accommodation train came along. I tell you it was a narraw escape for the train. They stopped just a few rods before they got to the bridge.”

      “What made them stop? How did the engineer come to suspect?”

      “It seems a boy came along that way, and saw the condition of the bridge, and signalled the train.”

      “A boy?”

      “Yes. He had a pitchfork, and stuck his hat and a handkerchief on the tines, and so attracted the engineer’s attention.”

      Mr. Tarbox opened his eyes wide, and a sudden revelation came to him.

      “Why, it must have been Grant,” he said.

      “Didn’t he tell you anything about it?”

      “No.”

      “I heerd the passengers took up a collection for the boy, whoever he was. He must have got as much as twenty-five dollars.”

      “That’s where Grant’s money came from,” exclaimed Seth Tarbox, slapping his leg vigorously. “He’s gone and ordered a twenty-dollar suit, and been hintin’ mysteriously that he’d got money enough to pay for it.”

      “Yes, I suppose that explains it. Well, the boy needs a new suit and he’s earned it easy.”

      “But it’s such a foolish way of spendin’ his money. My grandson Rodney offered him a suit of his for nothin’, and he might have given me the money to keep for him.”

      “Yes, he might,” said Jotham with a queer smile, “but I think if I’d been in Grant’s place I’d have done the same thing he did.”

      Mr. Perry went away directly afterward, and Seth Tarbox sought his wife.

      “Where is Grant, Mrs. T.?”

      “He went out to walk after his chores were done, but he didn’t say where he was going.”

      “I’ve found out where he got his money,” said Seth, nodding his head.

      “Where, then? He didn’t do anything wrong, I am sure.”

      “Well, no, not in gettin’ the money, but he’d ought to have consulted me before bein’ so extravagant.”

      “Where did he get the money?”

      “He found out the bridge was broken, and signalled the train and saved it from being wrecked.”

      Mrs. Tarbox’s eyes sparkled with maternal pride.

      “It was a noble act,” she said.

      “The passengers took up a contribution, and Jotham Perry thinks Grant got about twenty-five dollars.”

      “He deserved it.”

      “Well, I’m glad he got it, but he had no right to spend it himself. Ther’s one thing that don’t occur to you, Mrs. T. What he did was done in time, and he lost at least an hour by the delay it cost. You know yourself how late he came home.”

      “What is that, Mr. Tarbox, to the lives of the passengers and the safety of the train?”

      “You don’t understand me, Mrs. T. Under the circumstances I think I ought to have half the money he received.”

      “Mr. Tarbox!” exclaimed his wife in profound disgust.

      “That’s so, and of course if I had it he wouldn’t have no twenty dollars to throw away on a suit of clothes.”

      “You forget, Mr. Tarbox, that it has saved you the money you would have to pay for a new suit for him.”

      “It has saved me nothing. I wouldn’t have bought him a new suit. My grandson, Rodney, was goin’ to give him one of his old suits. Now I think of it, I’ll go down and see Mr. Shick and warn him not to make up the suit, tellin’ him that Grant can’t pay for it with my permission.”

      “That will be a mean thing to do, Seth Tarbox.”

      Mrs. Tarbox always called her husband by his full name when she had occasion to feel displeased with him.

      “You and I don’t look on things in the same way, Mrs. T.,” said her husband calmly. “I’ll go and see Mr. Shick at once.”

      The tailor shop was still open for business when Mr. Tarbox entered.

      “Well, Mr. Tarbox, have you come to pick out a suit for yourself?”

      “No, I haven’t. Have you cut out Grant’s suit yet?”

      “Yes; it is nearly finished.”

      “Then I’m sorry for you. You mustn’t make it up?”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I shall forbid the boy to pay for it. He’s got the money, as I’ve found out, but part of it belongs to me, and I won’t have him spendin’ it so extravagantly.”

      “I shan’t be able to oblige you, Mr. Tarbox. The suit will be made up, as I agreed, and delivered to Grant.”

      “Well, you’ll be takin’ a risk. I’ve warned you that you won’t get your pay.”

      “You are behind the times, Mr. Tarbox. You have taken your walk for nothing. The suit is already paid for.”

      “What!” ejaculated Mr. Tarbox.

      “It is just as I said. Grant has paid me for the suit in advance. I advise you to give me an order and do the same thing.”

      Mr. Tarbox felt that he had been outwitted. He persuaded himself that Grant had treated him meanly. Of course there was no resource. He was too wise to ask Mr. Shick to refund the money, for he knew he would not do it. He found nothing to say, and shuffled out, looking down in the mouth.

      “There goes the meanest man in town!” soliloquized the tailor, as his visitor walked slowly down the road. “Grant must have a pretty

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