“Where's your father and mother?”
“They are both dead.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I hope to get into a store or counting-room and learn to be a merchant.”
“I shan't have to work for a living,” said Oscar, in a tone of importance.
“Because your family is rich, I suppose,” said Herbert.
“Yes, we've got a large estate, ever so many acres. That's what mother's got. Then grandpa is rich besides, and I expect he will leave me a good deal of his money. He's pretty old, and I don't believe he'll live very long.”
Oscar said this with such evident satisfaction that Herbert was disgusted, thinking it not very creditable to him to speculate so complacently upon his grandfather's speedy death.
“You seem to be well off, then,” said he, at last, to the boy.
“Yes,” said Oscar, “our family is one of the first in the State. My father is a Peyton.”