“Subscriptions to school societies and things. At Christmas vacation father asked me how many societies I belonged to, and I forgot and said one. That spoiled that.”
“You know you were lying,” said Pete severely.
“Ye-es, I suppose I was, in a way. But I didn’t think of it then, honest. I don’t do it any more. Now when I want extra money I write and tell the truth.”
“I tell them that Pete has borrowed all I had!”
“What do you think of that?” asked Pete indignantly. “I only owe you seventy-five cents. And I’ll pay you the first money I get, you fresh kid!”
“Please don’t Pete!” begged Tad. “If you do, I’ll have to think up something else.”
“Just lend it to me instead,” suggested Tom helpfully. “I don’t mind.”
“That wouldn’t be lending,” replied Tad. “That would be giving it.”
That letter of Rodney’s didn’t get written until evening.
On Sunday Rodney had returned from church by way of River Street and the sight of Doolittle’s Pharmacy had reminded him that he had not yet kept his promise to Jack Billings. So on Monday he slipped down the hill between Latin and English recitations to settle his indebtedness. Young Mr. Doolittle didn’t remember him until Rodney recalled the circumstances and informed him that he wanted to pay for the four ice-cream sodas.
“Oh, you were the fellow that played the trick on Watson, eh?” asked the clerk with a chuckle. “Say, maybe he wasn’t peeved about it!”
“Yes, he made believe he was going to pay for them himself, and then when he and his friends had drank ’em he said I was to charge ’em to you.”
“That’s all right. Forty cents, wasn’t it?”
“He’s all the time doing things like that,” continued the clerk grievedly. “Did I tell you about the time he got a bottle of liniment off the shelf and emptied it into the sarsaparilla tank when I wasn’t looking? Well, he did. And Deacon Whittier and Si Moon――――”
“Si Moon; keeps the livery stable,” replied the other, puzzled by the boy’s amusement. “Know him?”
“No, but I’m going to start a list of names. You’ve got some corkers around here! What do they call Mr. Moon for short? Sirocer?”
“They call him Si,” replied the clerk with the hauteur of one who discovers that he has made a humorous remark and doesn’t know what it was. “Don’t know what you mean about Si Rocker.”