“It was an errand for Aunt Jane.”
“Will you answer my question?” said Trafton angrily. “What business has your aunt got with Mrs. Jones?”
He still thought that his wife had sent a message to Mr. Jones through the wife of the latter.
“She had been doing a little sewing for Mrs. Jones and asked me to carry the work back.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said John Trafton, relieved. “And how much did the work come to?”
“Twenty-five cents.”
“You may give me the money, Robert,” said the fisherman. “You might lose it, you know.”
Could Robert be blamed for regarding his uncle with contempt? His intention evidently was to appropriate his wife’s scanty earnings to his own use, spending them, of course, for drink. Certainly a man must be debased who will stoop to anything so mean, and Robert felt deeply ashamed of the man he was forced to call uncle.
“I can’t give you the money, uncle,” said Robert coldly.
“Can’t, hey? What do you mean by that, I want to know?” demanded the fisherman suspiciously.