“I mean this, that I hold a mortgage on this house for two hundred dollars, and that’s as much as it will fetch at auction. What do you say to that?”
Robert looked and felt as much troubled as his aunt. On his young shoulders fell this new burden, and he was at an utter loss what could be done.
“I thought I’d shut you up, you young cub!” said the landlord, glancing maliciously at Robert.
“You haven’t shut me up!” retorted Robert with spirit.
“What have you got to say, hey?”
“That you ought to be ashamed to take all my uncle’s earnings and then steal his home. That’s what I’ve got to say!”
“I’ve a great mind to give you a caning,” said Mr. Jones in a rage.
“You’d better not!” said Robert.
He was as tall as the landlord, and though not as strong, considerably more active, and he did not feel in the least frightened.
Nahum Jones was of a choleric disposition, and his face was purple with rage, but he hadn’t yet said all he intended.