"We shouldn't feel right if he didn't," said Jim.
"Dad," spoke up Percy, "I want it. I've earned it. Look at those hands and arms. It's the first money I ever had that you didn't give to me. I'm going to have one of the bills framed behind glass."
"He's earned it, fast enough," corroborated Jim. "Let him take it, Mr. Whittington. We'll all feel better about it if you will."
So the millionaire gave his consent, with the mental reservation that in some way he would make it up to the others later.
"What are you going to do with all that wealth, Percy?" he asked. "It won't keep you very long in gasolene."
"Send half of it to Filippo for his brother Frank," replied Percy, promptly. "He lost about all he had when the Barona was wrecked."
Later that afternoon Mr. Whittington took Jim aside out of Percy's hearing.
"Honestly, between us, how has the boy done this summer?"
"I wouldn't ask to have anybody take hold any better than he has since the middle of July."