“You young rascal!” exclaimed his uncle, half ashamed and wholly angry. “Is that the way you repay me for keeping you out of the poorhouse?”
“I can support myself, Uncle John, and for the last two years I’ve done it and helped Aunt Jane besides. There isn’t any danger of my going to the poorhouse. I would leave Cook’s Harbor to-morrow if I thought Aunt Jane were sure of a comfortable support, but I am afraid you would let her starve.”
Robert had never spoken so plainly before and his uncle was almost struck dumb by the boy’s bold words. He knew they were deserved, but he was angry nevertheless and he was as firm as ever in his determination to have the money.
“Boy,” he said, “you are too young to lecture a grown man like me. I know what’s best to do. Where did you get the money?” he demanded with sudden curiosity. “Did you find it in any of my pockets?”
“There wouldn’t be much use in searching your pockets for money. You never leave any behind.”
“Where did you get it then?”
“Mr. Tudor, who boards at the hotel, gave it to me.”
“That’s a likely story.”
“He gave it to me because I ran after his hat, which was blown off by the wind, and brought it back to him. It was a very expensive hat, so he said.”
“I know; it is a Panama hat.”