"Then mebbe you can afford a new suit," Allie told him. "You look
like sin."

Her father nodded, but his mind was full of the incidents of that
afternoon and he began at once to recount them. He told the story
badly, but in a language that the women understood. He had not
gone far, however, when the girl interrupted him to exclaim:

"Wait! Why, Pa! You mean to say Mister Gray 'ain't got no money?"

"He had less 'n a hundred dollars. An' him livin' here like a king
with everybody bowin' an' scrapin'!"

Ignoring the effect upon Allie of this intelligence, he continued
his recital. "All I done was set around while him an' them bank
people talked it over," he said, finally. "Then they got their
lawyer in an' he examined the title papers. Seemed like he'd never
git through, but he did, an' they signed some things an' we come
out, an' Mister Gray told me I'd made forty-eight thousand
dollars."

"Goodness me!" Ma Briskow's eyes widened. "Why, that Evans place
ain't wuth the taxes."

"It's more 'n likely wuth a million. But think! Him tellin' me
_I'd_ made forty-eight thousand dollars! It give me a jolt, an' I
says _I_ didn't make it. I told him I'd fell down an' turned the
hull thing over to him. 'It's _you_ that's made forty-eight
thousand,' I says."