“Yes.”
“And your father is very rich?”
“Yes.”
“Then he won’t be such a beast as to refuse. Isn’t he rather close with you?”
“Yes.”
“Rather mean, in fact. It costs money to telegraph. I presume it is on this account that he has written you by mail.”
“If he doesn’t write, what shall I do?” said Victor. “I have only twenty-five cents left, and that will barely buy my dinner.”
“I haven’t much more,” said Arthur, “but I don’t worry.”
“No, for you have money of your own, and are sure to get something.”