“It will take him a good while.”
“It doesn’t take long to come back by cars, does it?”
“No; but it costs a great deal of money. Why, it may take Dodger a year to earn enough to pay his way back on the railroad.”
“A year!” exclaimed Florence, in genuine dismay—“a year, in addition to the time it takes to go out there! Where will we all be at the end of that time?”
“Not in jail, I hope,” answered Bolton, jocularly. “I am afraid your uncle will no longer be in the land of the living.”
A shadow came over Florence’s face.
“Poor Uncle John!” she said, sadly. “It is terrible to think he may die thinking hardly of me.”
“Leavin’ his whole fortune to Curtis,” continued Tim.
“That is the least thing that troubles me,” said Florence.
“A woman’s a queer thing,” said Tim, shrugging his shoulders. “Here’s a fortune of maybe half a million, and half of it rightfully yours, and you don’t give it a thought.”