The table was simply loaded
with cold meats, and sweets, and cakes of varied description. The fare
was homely but plentiful, and, to these simple-living people, it was
all that was required. Bud helped himself liberally, while Nan poured
out the fragrant coffee.
"We ought to be through in a week now," Nan said, passing a heavy china
cup of coffee across to her father. "Jeff figures we're well up on
average in spite of the stock we lost last summer. It's pretty good to
think--after that time. Say, Daddy, we owe Jeff a pretty big thing."
The old man looked up with a smile.
"Guess the owin' ain't all with us," he said, with his mouth full.
Nan paused in the act of sipping her coffee. Her eyes were full of
incredulity.
"I don't understand, Daddy," she said frankly. "We owe more to Jeff
than ever. Much more. He came pretty near handing over his poor life
so the Obar might prosper. He cleared out that gang who would have
done the Obar to death. A man can't give more to--his friends."
Bud remained unconvinced.
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