“Confound your insolence!” sputtered the other angrily. “You’re working for me! I’ll give you no money to squander, you reprobate!”
“Nothin’ doing, then, old tightwad,” and Bully made as if to hand back the folded paper. He carelessly took his cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a cloud of vile-smelling smoke.
“Why—do you mean—do you refuse to go to Fardale?” Colonel Carson was almost speechless with rage.
“Surest thing you know!”
Colonel Carson reached into his pocket and drew out two five-dollar bills.
“Here’s ten dollars—take it or leave it. Go to Fardale and stay over Saturday. Use this as expense money.”
Bully sniffed, and his father exploded:
“You’ll do what I say! Take this expense money and work this business, and you get ten per cent of the winnings. Refuse, and you can go to the dickens for all o’ me! I’ll not have a worthless thing like you loafin’ around here any longer, understand?”
It was the first time Bully had ever seen his father aroused against him, and he was cowed. Reaching out, he took the money and put it in his pocket with the paper.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll do it.” But to himself he muttered sullenly: “And I’ll have a wad to bet on that game—somehow!”