“You’ve said it.”
Attorney Stockwell fumbled at his collar as if he were choking. Then he sputtered:
“You can think this over till morning. If you don’t get some sense into your head by that time, you’d better find some other place to live.”
“Meaning I’m kicked out,” replied Bud instantly and springing to his feet.
“You can sleep over it,” added the lawyer. “Don’t need to act hastily. But it’s no use us trying to get along together if you’re too proud to help out when I get you a good job.”
“I don’t need to sleep over it,” answered Bud promptly. “My sleepin’ is done for to-night. If that’s the verdict, we’ll call it quits.”
The lawyer was palpably embarrassed. He was afraid to put Bud out for reasons best known to himself, but he felt like it.
“I’ll see you later,” he snapped suddenly, and left the room.
Bud’s sleeping wasn’t as nearly finished as he thought. With youthful agility, he turned in again, and did not awaken until daylight. The Stockwells breakfasted early, but Bud’s chores were done when his foster father appeared. Somewhat to Bud’s surprise, the affair of the night before was not recalled, and the boy was about to escape from the breakfast table when he was surprised to see President Elder’s well known rig dash up to the house.