She won't be working
there much longer, though. Say, don't forget to give your friend my
grandfather's best regards. You'll excuse me now; my wagon's outside
with a lot of green stuff that's got to be delivered. See you again,
sir."
At eleven Thomas delivered some bunches of parsley and lettuce at the
Spraggins mansion. Thomas was only twenty-two; so, as he came back,
he took out the handful of five-hundred-dollar bills and waved them
carelessly. Annette took a pair of eyes as big as creamed onion to the
cook.
"I told you he was a count," she said, after relating. "He never would
carry on with me."
"But you say he showed money," said the cook.
"Hundreds of thousands," said Annette. "Carried around loose in his
pockets. And he never would look at me."
"It was paid to me to-day," Thomas was explaining to Celia outside. "It
came from my grandfather's estate. Say, Cele, what's the use of waiting
now? I'm going to quit the job to-night. Why can't we get married next
week?"
"Tommy," said Celia. "I'm no parlor maid. I've been fooling you. I'm
Miss Spraggins--Celia Spraggins. The newspapers say I'll be worth forty
million dollars some day."
Thomas pulled his cap down straight on his head for the first time since
we have known him.
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