The latter's rate of speed had increased as they neared the town.
"Hadn't I better take care of our money for us ?" he at last asked in a voice oily with solicitude.
"No, sir!" The "sir" was weighted with so heavy an emphasis that the tactful Merle merely said "Oh!" in a hurt tone.
"I can take care of my own money for me," added the speeding capitalist, seeming to wish that any possible misconception as to the ownership of the hoard might be definitely removed.
"Oh," said Merle again, this being all that with any dignity he could think of to say.

They were now passing the quiet acre that had been the scene of the morning's unpleasantness.

Their pails, half filled with berries, were still there, but the strangely behaving Wilbur refused to go for them.

He eyed the place with disrelish.

He would not again willingly approach that spot where he had gone down into the valley of shame.