“Then, of course, he’s got enough to live on.”
“Besides, all his furniture is very nice,” cried Robert, falling into the trap. “He seems not to mind money and talks as if he was always used to it.”
“I s’pose he pays you for running of errands for him,” said Trafton.
“Yes,” answered Robert reluctantly, for he feared that his uncle would ask to have the money transferred to him. But the next words of Trafton reassured him.
“That’s all right,” he said. “You can spend the money as you please. I don’t ask you for any of it.”
“Thank you, uncle,” said Robert warmly.
Mrs. Trafton regarded her husband in surprise. He was appearing in a character new to her. What could his sudden unselfishness mean?
“I only asked because I didn’t want you to work for nothing, Bob,” said his uncle, not wishing it to appear that he had any other motive, as his plan must, of course, be kept secret from all.
“I wouldn’t mind working for nothing, uncle. It would be small pay for his saving my life,” Robert said with perfect sincerity.
“He wouldn’t want you to do it—a rich man like him,” returned the fisherman complacently. “It’s the only money he has to spend, except what he pays for victuals. I’m glad you’ve fallen in with him. You might as well get the benefit of his money as anybody.”