Before Attorney Stockwell reached his home, Mrs. Stockwell had discovered Bud’s presence, although she had not disturbed him. When her husband reached the house and learned that his adopted son was safe in bed, he was greatly relieved. He went at once to Bud’s room. It was after eleven o’clock. Arousing the sleeping boy, he prepared to close the deal between Bud and the fair association.
Bud’s first response was to pull the covers over his head and snore lustily.
“Wake up, Bud, I want to talk to you.”
“I have been here all the time,” sleepily responded the boy. “I ain’t done nothin’. Is it morning?”
Attorney Stockwell shook him again until the lad was fully awake. Then he asked him, somewhat brusquely, what he meant “by riding such a high horse” with Mr. Elder and refusing to take the ten dollars.
“Because I said I’d work for nothing,” said Bud, crawling from under his sheet and sitting on the bedside.
“But they are willing to pay you, and pay you well. Men don’t work for nothing. I work all day for ten dollars,” added the lawyer.
“That’s it,” said Bud. “I don’t want to work all my life for ten dollars a day. I want nothing or what I’m worth.”
“Rubbish,” snorted the lawyer. “You talk pretty swell for a boy who ain’t never yet made enough to keep him.”
“I reckon I owe you a good deal of money,” exclaimed Bud, still blinking his sleepy eyes and then looking at his foster father sharply.