“We ain’t talkin’ about that,” answered the lawyer evasively.
“I know ‘we’ ain’t,” said Bud. “But I am. You never talk about it when I want to. Why did you take me in? Did my father leave me any property?”
“The courts’ll take care o’ that at the right time,” replied Attorney Stockwell pompously.
“All right,” replied Bud, sleepily. “When they do, you just take out all I’ve cost you and quit throwin’ it up to me ever’ day.”
The lawyer rose and walked about a moment in an embarrassed way.
“That’s all right, Bud. We won’t quarrel about that. I ain’t puttin’ you out o’ house an’ home. I didn’t wake you up to talk o’ that. I got ten dollars here President Elder gave me to give to you.”
“Keep it yourself,” yawned Bud, “and I won’t owe you so much.”
“We’ve fired that Mr. Dare,” exclaimed the lawyer, playing his trump card, “and we held a meeting to-night to get another operator. We elected you.”
“Me?” exclaimed Bud, at last fully awake. “Elected me?”
“Yes,” went on the lawyer. “He got gay with us—wanted pay for six days, and we discharged him.”