“According to my reckoning there are about twenty-eight dollars coming to me,” returned Leo Dunbar quickly. “I have kept the tally ever since I came to live with you.”
“Ain’t a cent, boy; not a penny.”
“I beg to differ with you. And now while we are at it, Mr. Hawkins, supposing we settle up?”
“Eh?”
“I say, supposing we settle up?”
“Settle up?” repeated the miserly farmer in amazement.
“Yes. You can pay me what you owe me. My month will be up to-morrow, and I don’t intend to stay here any longer.”
“But yer will stay, boy! I’ve got a right on yer. The poorhouse folks signed the papers.”
“Squire Dobb signed the papers, but to me that doesn’t count. He never had any claim on me.”
“He settled yer father’s estate.”