"What am I to go at?" he asked, in a hopeless tone. For the time being he seemed utterly crushed.
"You have a fair commercial education. You might become a bookkeeper."
"Bookkeepers don't earn their salt!" he snapped.
"Some of them earn twenty to forty dollars per week," put in Robert.
"Twenty to forty dollars! Do you suppose I am going to live on a beggarly twenty dollars per week! Perhaps a low-bred boy like you can do it. I am used to something better."
"I am not a low-bred boy," retorted Robert, clenching his fists, at which Frederic Vernon fell back before him. "I consider my breeding as good as yours, perhaps better."
"I will have no further arguments or quarrels," said Mrs. Vernon, coming between them.
"Aunt, do you mean to throw me off without a cent?" pleaded Frederic Vernon. "If you do that I shall starve, here among strangers. At least, pay my fare back to the United States."
"I do not want you to go back to the United States."
"Then where shall I go?"