the porch and going in the front way, he entered the house by the kitchen. His movements were furtive, and sharp eyes would have read in him something of guilt.
But his mother was busy preparing to carry a roast of lamb to the dining room. "Hurry, Bert," she said. "You'll just have time to wash."
His father and his mother were at the table when he came downstairs. The lamb, tender and juicy, was as dry straw on his tongue. He fidgeted in his chair. His mother could observe him now, and slowly a shadow spread over her face.
"I'm . . . I'm taking all my money out of the bank," the boy said suddenly and explosively.
Mr. Quinby laid down his fork. "What for?"
"I'm going in business."
Slowly a twinkle of amusement grew in the man's eyes. He began to chuckle. "Sam's been talking to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"That fellow could talk business ambition into a brass monkey." To the man the thing was a joke. He was amused at the thought of a boy adventuring into the realm of man's work. "I suppose this is going to be a real up-and-going concern?"
"Yes, sir."
"Going to rent an office or a store?" The tone was jocular.
"A store."
