“But he wouldn’t. From what I know of your table, father, I think he would starve to death in a month. I haven’t forgotten how you starved me when I was a kid.”
“You look strong and well now,” said old Jerry.
“Yes, but no thanks to you! But to business! How much money have you got?”
“Very little, James. I have eleven cents that Paul gave me yesterday.”
“Bah! You are deceiving me. Where is your bank book?”
“I have none. What makes you ask such questions?” demanded the old man, querulously. “I wish you would go away.”
“That is a pretty way to treat a son you haven’t seen for twelve years. Do you know what I am?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll tell you; for years I have been a burglar.”
Old Jerry looked frightened.