“You work! Where?”
“I peddle papers every night—Telegraphs.”
“You mean you make real money? Gee, that’s swell.”
Nat shut his lips.
“Aw, I don’t get nothin’. Pa makes me do it. He takes it and uses it to help out at home.”
“But you do the work and so the money belongs to you!”
“Yeah! But pa figgers he’s supportin’ me and he had to work when he was a boy—and turn over the money to his father. So he makes me do the same.”
“I’d like to see myself——”
“Aw, you’re talkin’ through your hat! Whatter you know about havin’ a father? Your father died! Hang it all, some guys have all the luck!”