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Pendleton himself delivered them from boredom. He had observed Riever's interest in his daughter and was not without his hopes in that direction too. By and by he rose saying with a self-conscious air:
"I can't take gifts from you," said Pen coldly. "I've earned this money, haven't I? You promised it."
"Certainly," said Pen stiffly. "Eggs are twenty cents a dozen, butter forty cents the pound."
Pen leaned against the fence post. A welter of emotions seemed to shatter her; joy, incredulity, terror that her wits might be wandering, anger at his careless air of well-being.
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. "I must have more of a change than that," said Pen patiently. "I need six hundred dollars."
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