"He's all right, but he isn't happy," said Travers, laughing. "That was a good move of yours, selling his boat."
"Did you sell Grit's boat, Mr. Brandon?" demanded his wife quickly.
"Yes, I did, Mrs. B. Have you got anything to say against it?"
"I say that it was a mean, contemptible, dishonest act!" said Mrs. Brandon warmly. "You have taken away the poor boy's means of living, in order to gratify your love of drink. The food which you are eating was bought with his earnings. How do you expect to live, now that you have taken away his boat?"
"He'll get along; he's got sixty dollars," said Brandon thickly.
"Sixty dollars won't last forever. To whom did you sell the boat?"
"Phil Courtney."
"He was just the boy to buy it. Little he cared for the harm he was doing my poor Grit. How much did he pay you?"
"Five dollars."
"And how much of the money have you got left?"