“‘Then he can buy them himself,’ he returned.
“‘I will buy some out of my interest money,’ said mother.
“‘Your interest isn’t due,’ he said shortly.
“‘You might advance me a little,’ she returned ‘Say, ten dollars.’
“But he wouldn’t do it, and while I am on the subject I may as well say that he never did pay her the interest he promised. Of course he had to give her a few dollars now and then, but I don’t think it amounted to more than thirty or forty dollars a year, while she was entitled to a hundred and twenty.”
“He must have been a mean man,” said Bernard, in a tone of sympathy.
“Mean was no name for it. I tried to get him to pay me wages, no matter how small, so that I could have something to spend for myself, but it was of no use. He wouldn’t agree to it. Finally I told mother I couldn’t stand it any longer; I must run away and earn my own living. She felt bad about having me go, but she saw how I was treated, and she cried a little, but didn’t say much. So I ran away, and when I reached Boston I tried to get a place. This I couldn’t do, as I had no friends and no one to recommend me; and finally, not knowing what else to do, I shipped as a sailor.”
“Have you ever been home since?”
“Yes, I went two or three times, and I always carried some money to mother, who needed it enough, poor woman! Finally I went home two years since and I found that my mother was dead;” and Jack wiped away a tear from his eye. “I don’t think I shall ever go there again.”
“And did Mr. Stubbs keep your mother’s money?” asked Bernard.