“You couldn’t get me arrested for that. You couldn’t even get me a black mark for it.”
“Well, I don’t want to get anybody any black marks,” said Wilfred.
“Because you know you couldn’t.”
“Well then, I’m glad I couldn’t.”
“Does your father send you money? I bet my father sends me more than yours does.”
“My father is dead, so you’re right again.”
“My father’s got a big hotel on a mountain. He sends me five dollars every week. Rich people come to that hotel. Don’t they send you any money, your people?”
“My sister sent me five dollars,” said Wilfred. It was loyalty to his home and his sister that prompted him to say this, the same fine delicacy of honor that caused him to keep his promise to his mother and to do this without even a secret sulkiness in his heart. If his heart was to be favored at a tragic cost, at least it was a heart worth favoring.
“Haven’t you got any brother?” Archie asked.
“No; I had one before I was born—I guess I can’t say that, can I? I would have had one only he was kidnapped and I guess they killed him because my father wouldn’t give them all the money they wanted.”