"Ben told me that this Mr. Enos was once a partner of his father in business, the two running an art store together. Enos was very much interested in art; so it's possible the fortune he left may have something to do with that," added Dave. As my old readers know, Roger Morr had always thought a great deal of Laura; and of late his liking for her had greatly increased. On her part, Dave's sister had always considered the senator's son a very promising young man. Consequently, it can well be imagined that the four young people spent a most enjoyable time that evening in the mansion. The girls played on the piano and all sang, and then some rugs were pushed aside, a phonograph was brought into action, and they danced a number of the latest steps, with the older folks looking on. Roger was to remain over for several days at Crumville, and early the next morning Dave asked his chum if he would accompany him on a hasty trip to Coburntown. He had already acquainted Roger with the trouble he was having with the shoe-dealer and the man who sold men's furnishings. "We can take a horse and cutter and be back before lunch," said Dave. "I'll be glad to go," answered the senator's son. "I haven't had a ride in a cutter this winter." They were soon on the way, Dave this time driving a black horse that could not only cover the ground well, but was thoroughly reliable. By ten o'clock they found themselves in Coburntown, and made their way to the establishment run by Asa Dickley. The proprietor of the store was busy with a customer at the time, and a clerk came forward to wait on the new arrivals. "I wish to speak to Mr. Dickley," said Dave; and he and Roger waited until the man was at leisure. Mr. Dickley looked anything but pleasant as he walked up to our hero. "I got a very strange letter from you, Mr. Dickley. I can't understand it at all," began Dave. "And I can't understand why you treat me the way you do," blurted out the shopkeeper. "You promised to come in here and settle up over a week ago." "Mr. Dickley, I think there is a big mistake somewhere," said Dave, as calmly as he could. "I don't owe you any money, and I can't understand why you should write me such a letter as this," and he brought forth the communication he had received. "You don't owe me any money!" ejaculated Asa Dickley. "I just guess you do! You owe me twenty-six dollars." "Twenty-six dollars!" repeated Dave. "What is that for?" "For? You know as well as I do! Didn't you come in here and get a fedora hat, some shirts and collars and neckties, and a pair of fur-lined gloves, and a lot of underwear? The whole bill came to just twenty-six dollars." "And when was this stuff purchased?" went on Dave. "When was it purchased? See here, Porter, what sort of tom-foolery is this?" cried Asa Dickley. "You know as well as I do when you got the things. I wouldn't be so harsh with you, only you promised me faithfully that you would come in and settle up long before this."