ugh
town, on his way from Nevada, the following afternoon, and all the
Schofield family were to go to the station to see him. Penrod would be
excused from school.

At this news his cheeks became pink, and for a moment he was breathless.
Uncle Joe and Penrod did not meet often, but when they did, Uncle Joe
invariably gave Penrod money. Moreover, he always managed to do it
privately so that later there was no bothersome supervision. Last time
he had given Penrod a silver dollar.

At thirty-five minutes after two, Wednesday afternoon, Uncle Joe's
train came into the station, and Uncle Joe got out and shouted among his
relatives. At eighteen minutes before three he was waving to them from
the platform of the last car, having just slipped a two-dollar bill into
Penrod's breast-pocket. And, at seven minutes after three, Penrod opened
the door of the largest "music store" in town.

A tall, exquisite, fair man, evidently a musical earl, stood before
him, leaning whimsically upon a piano of the highest polish. The sight
abashed Penrod not a bit--his remarkable financial condition even made
him rather peremptory.

"See here," he said brusquely: "I want to look at that big horn in the
window."

"Very well," said the earl; "look at it." And leaned more luxuriously
upon the polished piano.

"I meant--" Penrod began, but paused, something daunted, while an
unnamed fear brought greater mildness into his voice, as he continued,
"I meant--I--How much IS that big horn?"

"How much?" the earl repeated.

"I mean," said Penrod, "how much is it worth?"

"I don't know," the earl returned. "Its price is eighty-five dollars."

"Eighty-fi--" Penrod began mechanically, but was forced to pause and
swallow a little air that obstructed his throat, as the difference
between eighty-five and two became more and more startling. He
had entered the store, rich; in the last ten seconds he had become
poverty-stricken. Eighty-five dollars was the same as eighty-five
millions.

"Shall I put it aside for you," asked the salesman-earl, "while you look
around the other stores to see if there's anything you like better?"

"I guess--I guess not," said Penrod, whose face had grown red. He
swallowed again, scraped the floor with the side of his right shoe,
scratched the back of his neck, and then, trying to make his manner
casual and easy, "Well I can't stand around here all day," he said. "I
got to be gettin' on up the street."

"Business, I suppo