“Oh, Joel is of no account,” returned Mrs. Barton, contemptuously. “I run this house!”
Willis Ford suppressed a smile. He could easily believe from Mrs. Barton's appearance that she was the head of the establishment.
“There's one thing more,” added Mrs. Barton; “you're to pay the money to me. Jest as sure as it goes into Joel's hands, it'll go for drink. The way that man carries on is a disgrace.”
“I should prefer to pay the money to you,” said Ford.
“You'll have to pay somethin' in advance, if you want the boy to have anythin' to eat. I've got to send to the village, and I haven't got a cent in the house.”
Willis Ford took out a pocketbook. Extracting therefrom four five-dollar bills, he handed them to Mrs. Barton.
“There's money for four weeks,” he said. “When that time is up I'll send you more.”
Mrs. Barton's eyes sparkled, and she eagerly clutched the money.
“I ain't seen so much money for years,” she said. “I'll jest look out Joel don't get hold of it. Don't you tell Joel or Abner how much you've paid me.”
“I'll take care of that, Mrs. Barton. By the way, I must caution you not to believe any of the boy's stories. He's the son of a friend of mine, who's put him under my care. The boy's weak-minded, and has strange fancies. He thinks his name isn't Sam Green, and that his father is rich. Why, only the other day he insisted his name was George Washington.”