"No, I have not."
"Be it so. I have only to remark that you and your son will have occasion to regret the unfriendly and suspicious manner in which you see fit to treat me."
So saying, Mr. Brandon sat down to his breakfast, which he ate with an appetite such as is usually earned by honest toil.
When he rose from the table, he left the cottage without a word.
"How it all this to end?" thought Mrs. Brandon, following his retreating form with an anxious glance. "He has not been here twenty-four hours yet, and he has spent a dollar of Grit's hard earnings, and is dissatisfied because we will not give him more. Besides, he has already broached the subject of mortgaging the house, and all to gratify his insatiable thirst for strong drink."
Certainly the prospects were not very bright, and Mrs. Brandon might well be excused for feeling anxious.
Though Brandon had ten cents in his pocket, the price of a glass of whisky, he did not go at once to the tavern, as might have been expected. Instead of this, he bent his steps toward the river.
He knew about where Grit kept his boat, and went directly to it.
"Ha! a very good boat!" he said, after surveying it critically. "It ought to be worth ten dollars, at least, though I suppose I can't get over five for it. Well, five dollars will be a lift to me, and if Grit wants another boat he's got the money to buy one. I can get even with him this way, at least. He'd better have treated me well and saved his boat."
The boat was tied fast, but this presented no insurmountable difficulty.