“You wouldn’t have us turn him into the street?” said Chester, indignantly.
“You can do as you like. It ain’t no affair of mine. I s’pose he sent you here.”
“No, he didn’t; and I wouldn’t have come if we had been better fixed. But we haven’t enough money to live on ourselves.”
“Then tell him to go away. I never wanted him to come to Wyncombe.”
“It seems to me you ought to do something for your own nephew.”
“I can’t support all my relations, and I won’t,” said Silas, testily. “It ain’t no use talkin’. Walter Bruce is shif’less and lazy, or he’d take care of himself. I ain’t no call to keep him.”
“Then you won’t do anything for him? Even two dollars a week would help him very much.”
“Two dollars a week!” ejaculated Silas. “You must think I am made of money. Why, two dollars a week would make a hundred and four dollars a year.”
“That wouldn’t be much for a man of your means, Mr. Tripp.”
“You talk foolish, Chester. I have to work hard for a livin’. If I helped all my shif’less relations I’d end my days in the poorhouse.”