The little girls had danced off to the kitchen on some errand. The boy continued:
“Well! I got up there to the winter quarters and found Uncle Bill better. But the poor old fellow had been asking for me. I don’t suppose we ever will understand each other,” sighed Neale. “He can’t see why I want to be something different from a circus performer; and an education doesn’t mean a thing to him but foolishness.
“But I guess he really does have some interest in me—”
“Of course he does, Neale,” interposed Ruth, admonishingly. “I could tell that the time he was here and I talked with him.”
“Just the same, I wish I had money myself, so’s not to have to take any from him,” the boy said stubbornly.
“Well,” burst out Ruth, “you have had plenty of money with you lately, Neale O’Neil, whether you know it or not! What under the sun have you done with that great old book Aggie found in the garret?”
“Oh, mercy, yes, Neale!” put in Agnes. “What did you do with it? Ruth’s just about worried her heart and soul out about it.”
“What for?” asked Neale, flushing deeply.
“Well, goodness!” cried Agnes. “I believe that Ruth believes that old book is full of money.”
“What of it?” asked Neale, still looking red and angry.