“Help yourself, if you can, young man.”
He drew a long breath as if he felt relieved, and yet his face wore a look of anxiety. He saw that his ward was a boy of spirit—any one who looked into Bob Howard’s eyes could see that—and told himself that he was bound to have trouble with him sooner or later.
Arthur must have been of the same opinion; for, after waiting a long time for his father to speak, he broke in upon his reverie by saying:
“That boy is altogether too independent to suit me. I shall have to bring him down a peg or two.”
“You had better mind your own business and let him alone,” said Uncle Bob, roughly, “My position will be hard enough at the best, and if you expect me to be liberal with you, you must be careful to do nothing to increase the weight of the burden I shall have to bear.”
Arthur opened his eyes when he heard this, and relapsed into silence. He had made up his mind that he was going to do pretty near what he pleased with his cousin and everything that belonged to him; but now he saw that he would have to defer to his father in some things, or run the risk of having his allowance of spending money curtailed.
There had been no conversation between them regarding the amount of that allowance, but Arthur took it for granted that it was to be a liberal one.
The face that Bob Howard brought back to his companion surprised and alarmed the latter, who knew, as soon as he looked at it, that something unpleasant had happened.
He was not kept long in ignorance, for Bob, feeling the need of sympathy, made all haste to unburden his mind.
George listened in astonishment while his friend told what had passed between him and Uncle Bob; but when his story was finished there was nothing he could say to comfort him.