Randy of the River; Or, The Adventures of a Young Deckhand

by Jr. Horatio Alger

"I see."

"We—that is—well, we are not very good friends," went on Mrs. Clare.

"Mamma thinks Mr. Polk hasn't been honest with us," put in Rose, quickly. "I don't think so either."

"Rose, you must not talk so!"

"But it is true, isn't it?" returned the daughter.

"I may be misjudging Cousin Peter," said Mrs. Clare. "You see," she added, by way of an explanation, "my cousin Peter Polk had the settlement of my husband's affairs when he died, and I have always imagined that—well, that Rose and I did not get exactly what was coming to us."

"Mamma thought the account was three hundred dollars short," said Rose, who was inclined to be blunt.

"Couldn't you get a clear statement?" questioned Randy, with interest.

"We got a statement, but it was not clear to me," answered Mrs. Clare.

As soon as he felt able to do so, Randy got on his feet. He felt rather dizzy and he had a large lump over his left ear, where he had been struck by the club.