"Oh, but it is my business."
"It is not your business, and I want you to shut up!" he cried, in a rage. "He left little enough."
"Little enough," I cried. "My father was rich."
"He was at one time; but he lost the most of his fortune in stocks just before he died. You have hardly enough to keep you until you are twenty-one."
I must confess that my uncle's remarks were quite a shock to me. I had always supposed that I would some day be wealthy. I gave the matter a moment's thought, and then came to the conclusion that Mr. Stillwell was not telling the truth.
"How much money did my father leave?" I repeated. "I am entitled to know."
"You will know when I get ready to tell you, not before."
"Perhaps you are mistaken," said I. "And another thing, Uncle Felix, how is it that you were appointed my guardian?"
At these words I fancied my uncle turned pale. He sprang towards me, then stopped short.
"What do you mean by that question?" he demanded.