“What I say. Do you expect me to have the care of a boy—I always hated boys—and all for your benefit?”
“We two are one, my dear.”
“Not in money matters. I repeat it. I won’t take him unless you give me three hundred dollars of the money every year for my own use.”
Mr. Middleton didn’t like it, but he was finally compelled to give in. After all, it would leave him seven hundred, and at least five hundred would be clear profit.
CHAPTER II
INTRODUCES TOM TEMPLE.
THE STAGE stopped in front of the Plympton Hotel two days afterward. There were several inside passengers, but with these we have nothing to do. Beside the driver sat a stout boy, with a keen, expressive face, who looked full of life and activity.
“Here you are,” said the driver, with a final flourish of the whip.
“I see that, old chap,” said the boy; “but I don’t stop here.”