"You can hand it over to me."
"Then I should be held responsible and have to refund when the little fellow comes of age."
"He may never come of age."
"That neither you nor I can tell."
"Now look here," said the Broom-Squire, assuming an air of confidence, "between you and me, as old acquaintances, and me as gave you the feathers out o' a snipe's wing to make your first brush—and, so to speak, launched you in your career of greatness—between you and me I'm in an awkward perdic'ment. Through the failure of the Wealden Bank, of which you've heard tell, I've lost pretty much everything as I had managed to save through years of toil and frugality. And now I'm menaced in my little property. I don't know as I shall be able to hold it, unless some friend comes to the help. Well, now, who'll that little property go to but my son—that there precious darlin' baby as we're talkin' about. He'll grow out o' his squawlin', and he'll want his property unincumbered and clear, as it came to me. That I can't give him unless helped. I don't ask that there hundred and fifty pounds for myself. I know very well that I can't have it for myself. But I demand it for the child; it is now or never can the little estate in the Punch-Bowl be saved from fallin' into the hands of them darned lawyers. A stitch in time saves nine, and a little help now may be all that is wanted to keep the property clean and clear and unembarrassed wi' debt. If once we get our heads under water we'll all get drowned, me and Matabel and the kid—sure as crabs ain't garden apples."
"That may be very true, Bideabout," answered Iver, "but for all that I cannot let the money out of my control."
"Ain't you bound to spend it on the child?"
"I am bound to reserve it whole and intact for the child."
"But can you not see," persisted Jonas, "that you are doing that for the child, it would wish above all, when come to years of discretion."
"That is possible, but my hands are tied."