Just before twelve o’clock a smart looking buggy drove into the yard. The occupants of the buggy were Rodney and his mother.
“Hey, you!” he called out to Grant, “come and hold the horse while we get out.”
Grant came forward and did as he was requested. Had Rodney been alone he would not have heeded the demand, but Mrs. Bartlett’s sex claimed deference, though he did not like her.
“Just go in and tell your mother we’ve come to dinner.”
But Grant was spared the trouble, for the farmer came up at this moment.
“Howdy do, Sophia!” he said. “What sent you over?”
“I wanted to consult you about a little matter of business, father. I hope Mrs. Tarbox will have enough dinner for us.”
“I reckon so, I reckon so,” said Seth Tarbox, who, to do him justice, was not mean as regarded the table. “How’s your husband?”
“Oh, he’s ailing as usual. He’s lazy and shiftless, and if it wasn’t for me I don’t know what would become of us.”
By this time the two had entered the house. Rodney stayed behind, and glanced superciliously at Grant.
“Seems to me you’re looking shabbier than ever,” he said.
“You’re right there,” said Grant bitterly, “but it isn’t my fault.”
“Your grandfather’s. He won’t buy me any clothes.”
“I know that, but I work hard and earn a great deal more than I get.”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe I can hunt up one of my old suits for you,” Rodney added patronizingly.
“Thank you, but I don’t want anybody’s cast-off clothes; at any rate, not yours.”
“Don’t you wish you was me, so you could wear good clothes all the time?”
“I should like to wear the good clothes, but I’d rather be myself than anybody else.”
“Some time I shall be rich,” said Rodney complacently. “I shall have all grandfather’s money.”
“Oh, well, she’ll give it to me. I hope you don’t think you and your mother will get any of it?”
“We ought to, for mother is making a slave of herself, but I don’t think we will. If your grandfather would do more for us now we wouldn’t mind inheriting anything.”
“That means dinner, I suppose,” said Grant.
“Are you going to sit down with us?” asked Rodney, eying Grant’s costume with disfavor.
“I haven’t time to change them. Besides my Sunday suit isn’t much better.”
At the table, toward the close of the meal, Rodney said, “Grandfather, Grant isn’t dressed very well.”