"Money!" he snarled. "You're always wanting money. Do you think I am made of money?"
"No, Dick; but you know I have none. I wish I knew of any way to earn it."
"You do?"
"Yes, Dick."
"Then I suppose you'd be leaving me," he said, suspiciously.
"No, I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't, Dick."
"So you say," he answered, brutally, "How's the brat? Has it been crying?"
"No; it is a very good child."
"I'll go up and take a look at it."
He arose from his seat, and advanced toward the door.