“I need it to pay a few debts with,” murmured Noddy.
“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Nixon, closing the book, “but I can’t let you have any more money now.”
“But father, I simply must have it.”
“You’ll not get it from me, young man. I’m tired of handing you over money to waste on foolishness.”
“Well, I’m going to have that money,” retorted Noddy, speaking in an excited tone.
“Look here, young man,” answered his father, “don’t let me hear you speak to me again like that. Remember you are not of age, and until you are you are under my control. Remember also that you are not too big to be whipped. I am inclined to think that would be a good thing for you.”
“I’d like to see any one try it,” retorted Noddy impudently.
“Leave the room! Leave the room, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Nixon, rising to his feet, his face white with anger. “I do not want to lose my temper, and act hastily. Leave the room at once,” and he pointed to the door.
Noddy, with a sullen and hateful glance at his parent, passed through the portal. He slammed the door behind him, giving vent to the anger that raged within him. After the young man was gone Mr. Nixon sank down in a chair. He was trembling, and tears stood in his eyes.
“To think that my oldest son should be so thoughtless of the respect due me,” he sighed. “I wish he was better. Perhaps if he had had to work as hard as I did to make my fortune he would not be so wasteful. But I simply can not let him spend any more money at present. It is for his own good, but he can’t seem to see it. Ah me! I wish he was a better son.”