“And you believe in the Bible, don’t you?”
“I won’t answer your impudent question.”
“Yet,” continued Ben, “you blame me for feeding the hungry.”
“You fed ’em with my provisions,” snarled Jacob.
“Well, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll go without my supper.”
“You’ve a mighty independent way of talkin’, Benjamin Bruce, you that I feed and clothe.”
“I do work enough to pay for my keeping, Mr. Winter. Besides, you forget that you have got my mother’s money, which if she hadn’t married you would have been part mine.”
Jacob Winter winced. It was true that Mrs. Bruce had brought him two thousand dollars, which he had coolly deposited to his own account in a savings bank.
“That ain’t any of your business,” he said. “Now go out and feed the cows, and mind you don’t throw away any of my substance agin on beggars.”
Ben left the room without a reply, but his lip curled, for he thoroughly despised his stepfather for his meanness.