“I thought”—began the boy.
“You have not thought right. I am your mother’s friend. Four months ago I determined to tell her she was worse than penniless. She is involved in debt. Aspley place is mortgaged—”
“You mean we are poor?” asked Morey, in a quavering voice. “I don’t mean that—I know we are poor. But that we owe people money we can’t pay?”
“I tell you the truth,” went on Major Carey, “only because you’ve got to get some sense into your head. Your mother is heavily involved. Your place is carrying a heavy debt. Your purchase of an engine is worse than foolish—it is shocking.”
The proud boy’s head fell on his breast.
“It won’t make matters easier for you to go on this way. I can’t make it easy for you. You make it hard yourself by not suspecting.”
“I’ll send word not to ship it,” said Morey, not even yet realizing the whole truth.
“Don’t you understand, Morey?” Major Carey exclaimed. “That isn’t the trouble. It’s every thing. You can’t go to school, you can’t take years to educate yourself. You’ve got to go to work—now.”
The white-faced boy rose to his feet.
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well I’m not scared. That’s what I am ready to do.”