“I sometimes think your father is actually soft,” said Mrs. Briggs to Randolph, on the way over the ferry. “What claim has that Greyson boy upon him, that he should squander six dollars a week upon him? And that isn’t all, I presume. I have no doubt the boy manages to coax extra money out of him almost every week.”
“He won’t get it out of you, mother,” said Randolph.
“I should say not,” said Mrs. Briggs, very emphatically. “I should feel that I was robbing you. If your father impoverishes himself by such ill-timed liberality, you will be the sufferer.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Randolph, soberly.
“I don’t, of course, wish to be mean or parsimonious,” continued Mrs. Briggs, “but I hold that a man’s first duty is to his own family.”
“Of course it is,” said Randolph, who felt confident of it now that he saw the bearing upon his own interests.
“Will you give Gilbert the six dollars a week?” he inquired.
“Not unless he asks for it,” said Mrs. Briggs. “If he doesn’t need it there will be no occasion to offer it.”
“If he don’t ask for it, will you give it to me?” asked Randolph.
“You have an allowance of five dollars a week now. It seems to me that ought to be sufficient.”