“I wish we had!”
“Why don’t you go to your mother?”
“For what?”
“For the money.”
“Has she money?”
“Yes. She had a little money when she married your father, which she kept tight hold of; her mother’s death, two years ago, gave her more, and she has just married a rich man.”
“I don’t know yet what I shall do,” I replied, rising.
“Well,” he advised kindly, “before you blow your brains out or do anything else that’s a waste of good material, come and see me again.”
“Thank you,” I responded. “And, Mr. Blodgett, as a favor, I ask that all I have told you, and even my presence in New York, shall be confidential between us.”
“Nonsense!” he growled. “I shall tell Maizie all about it.”