“I hope so,” cried Stanley. “It’s a wonder to me that money doesn’t grow on trees up here.”
“But it does,” gravely informed Laura.
He looked at her smilingly, then became dubious in his gaze as her eyes remained calm and serene with no trace of mischief in them.
“Of course you are joking,” he faltered.
“No,” she quietly replied, shaking her head.
“Miss Laura, I must believe it then,” he continued. “If you say dollars grow on trees I know they grow there.”
“You see those spruce down below—I mean that bright patch of green?” And she pointed towards the base of the mountain.
“I do,” he replied. “And does money grow in that particular orchard?”
“You are beginning to be skeptical,” she accused. “I’ll tell you no more.”
“I am not; I believe,” he cried, his tone desperate. “And Bub also believes.”
“I’d believe doughnuts grew on them if Miss Laura said so,” readily assured Bub.
“Then you are both nice,” she decided, “and I’ll tell you. I got a hundred odd dollars from those spruce last winter.”
“Spruce gum!” exclaimed Bub, clapping his hands.
