"Then I'm old enough to smoke. I've smoked ever since I was twelve years old—well, good morning!"
"That'll do for one day," thought Stephen Webb.
It was three days before Stephen Webb called again on his new acquaintance. He did not wish Luke to suspect anything, he said to himself. Really, however, he found other things to take up his attention. At the rate his money was going it seemed very doubtful whether he would be able to give his mother any part of his salary, as suggested by his uncle.
"Hang it all!" he said to himself, as he noted his rapidly diminishing hoard. "Why can't my uncle open his heart and give me more than ten dollars a week? Fifteen dollars wouldn't be any too much, and to him it would be nothing—positively nothing."
On the second evening Luke went home late. It had been a poor day for him, and his receipts were less than usual, though he had been out more hours.
When he entered the house, however, he assumed a cheerful look, for he never wished to depress his mother's spirits.
"You are late, Luke," said Mrs. Walton; "but I have kept your supper warm."
"What makes you so late, Luke?" asked Bennie.
"The papers went slow, Bennie. They will, sometimes. There's no very important news just now. I suppose that explains it."
After a while Luke thought he noticed that his mother looked more serious than usual.