"No, Harry. But don't you think I have a right to know where you do get your money? If you came by it honestly—and I don't think anything differently—you ought not to be ashamed to tell me where you did get it. I only ask because I feel it is my duty to know what you are doing."
To this Harry did not answer.
"Of course, if you wish to keep the matter a secret, you can do so. But, it seems to me, that you are not treating me exactly as you should," went on Mr. Westmore. "I am doing my best by you, giving you a good home and a good education, and allowing you to have plenty of sport, and—"
"Well, father, I'll tell you the whole thing," interrupted Harry. "But—but I wish you wouldn't tell the others. They may laugh at me." His anger was fast dying out. "I went and put my camera in pawn, over to Camdale. The pawnbroker, Mr. Levy, lent me three dollars on it. I've got the pawn ticket in my pocket."
At this declaration Mr. Westmore smiled broadly, although Harry could not see him, owing to the darkness. There was something comical to him in Harry putting up his precious camera in order to raise money with which to buy the school principal a new silk hat. Had it not been for hurting his son's feelings he would have laughed outright.
"I see," he answered. "Why didn't you come to me for the amount?"
"Why, I—I didn't think you'd care to give it to me."
"I don't like a member of our family to patronize a pawnbroker. To-morrow I'll give you three dollars and you can go and get the camera back."
"Oh, thank you, father! And you won't say anything to the others about it?"
"Not a word, Harry."