“Why, you have had ten shillings a week since you came home!”
“Aren’t you a millionaire, father?”
“Some people say so.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’ve got a million pounds?”
“That’s what ‘millionaire’ means.”
“Ten shillings a week is only twenty-six pounds a year.”
“Quite right, and few boys get such good pocket-money.”
“When I come into the property I shall allow my son more than that,” says Percy gravely.
“Not if you love him as much as I love my son,” says Mr Rimbolt, with a pleasant smile.
“Good-night, father.”