“But my mother has money of her own. She had a fortune that is hers.”
“So she believes,” explained Major Carey, “but, Morey, money is an unknown quantity to your dear mother. She had and still has $5,000. It is safely invested and brings a revenue of $300 a year. On that and with what little your place has produced in the last three years you have lived.”
“My schooling cost more than that.”
“There you have it. Captain Barber advanced the money for your school bills.”
Morey’s face whitened and his lip quivered. Then he leaned across the table, his hand shaking, and exclaimed:
“And that’s what you call looking out for our interests! How could you let me make such a fool of myself? Do you imagine I hadn’t the manhood to do the right thing?”
“I’d have told you, but, my boy, your mother is different. She couldn’t stand it.”
“Yet you are willing now, when we are in over our heads and about ready to drown, to let a stranger tell her.”
“What can we do?”
“You can treat me like a man. Go on,” said Morey stoutly. “Tell me what has happened. If we are ‘all in’ I want to know just how deep the water is. Don’t you be afraid. You’re not talking to Mother now.”