"Why, you don't mean to say the kid isn't at home?" said Stephen, an irrepressible smile lighting up his face. "Well, that's a good one. Most likely he's in the station-house. Ho, ho!"
"And you laugh at the thought!" said Mrs. Palmer, indignantly.
"Oh, he ain't any better than other boys. You think he can't do anything wrong, but I'll bet you half a dollar he's been caught stealing or something."
"Wherever Paul is, I am sure he is not in the station-house," said Mrs. Palmer, positively.
"Don't be too sure of that," chuckled Stephen. "He's a sly one, Paul is. You wouldn't think butter'd melt in his mouth, but I know him better'n you do."
"Paul is a good son and brother, and always has been."
"And I suppose I am not," sneered Stephen.
"You must question your own conscience on that subject," said Mrs. Palmer.
"You are only my step-mother. You don't expect me to support you and the kids, do you?" asked Stephen, coarsely.
"No; I only desire that you will let us alone. We can get on without your help," returned the widow, with dignity.