“Where's all the money that man Ford gave you?”
“Where is it? It's eaten up, Mr. Barton, and you did your share. Ef you'd had your way, you'd have spent some of the money for drink.”
“Why don't he send you some more, then?”
“Ef you see him anywheres, you'd better ask him. It's your business to provide me with money; you can't expect one boy's board to support the whole family.”
“It's strange where them boys are gone,” said Joel, desirous of changing the subject. “Like as not, they hid under the bed, and fooled you.”
“Ef they did, I'll rout 'em out,” said Mrs. Barton, who thought the supposition not improbable.
Once more she ascended the stairs and made an irruption into the boy's chamber. She lifted the quilt, and peered under the bed. But there were no boys there. Looking about the room, however, she discovered something else. On the mantelpiece was a scrap of paper, which appeared to be so placed as to invite attention.
“What's that?” said Mrs. Barton to herself.
A moment later she was descending the staircase more rapidly than she had gone up just before.
“Look at that,” she exclaimed, holding out a scrap of paper to Joel Barton.