“It isn’t your mother’s fault, Morey. And it isn’t yours. It all began a long time ago.”
“You mean—?”
“Your father was not a good business man. He was a gentleman and my friend—”
“We don’t have to discuss him, do we, Major Carey?” exclaimed the boy with a new-born glint in his eye. The flush of confusion and the tremor of alarm seemed to have gone from Morey.
Major Carey was startled by the sudden change.
“What do you think we should do?” went on the lad and he was beginning to feel like a young man.
“Your mother has a little money of her own that will keep her from want. I and others of her friends believe she should give up the plantation and rent a cottage in the village. You must go to work and help support her.”
“Major Carey,” said Morey in a low voice, “of course you know what you are saying. But I can hardly believe it.”
“Morey, your mother is bankrupt.”