"Don't you owe him something?"
"Yes; about fifty cents or so. But George isn't mean enough to raise a row about a little thing like that."
Ralph and Loren had their own ideas on that point; and when they walked into the drug store and looked at the face Prime brought with him when he came up to the cigar-stand, they told themselves that if the clerk had had opportunity to recover his good-nature, he certainly had not improved it. He looked as sour as a green apple.
"Hallo, George," said Tom, cordially.
"How are you!" was the gruff reply.
"Fine day outside," continued Tom. "Been sleigh-riding much?"
"A time or two. What do you want?"
"Some cigars, please."
Prime languidly reached his hand into the show-case and brought out a box.
"Chalk these, will you?" said Tom, after he and his cousin had made their selections.
Without saying a word the clerk turned and walked toward the prescription counter at the back part of the store. Tom evidently
