“No, no—Master Albert!” protested Samuel. “I didn't mean quite that!”
“Why, I might just as well give you my money and be done with it,” insisted the other.
“Then you could fix everything up to suit yourself.”
“That isn't what I mean at all!” cried the boy in great distress. “I don't know how to answer you, sir—but there's a wrong in it.”
“But where? How?”
“Master Albert,” blurted Samuel—“it can't be right for you to get drunk!”
Bertie's face clouded.
“It can't be right, sir!” repeated Samuel.
And suddenly the other sat forward in his chair. “All right,” he said—“Maybe it isn't. But what are you going to do about it?”
There was anger in his voice, and Samuel was frightened into silence. There was a pause while they stared at each other.