"
"Not for nothing!" said Dick, with a sudden flash of passionate
indignation. "You had all father's money and kept it, and I've worked
just like a slave besides. It's not I that am a thief."
For a moment Fowley looked confounded, while his wife turned pale and
shivered. Then, with a brutal laugh, he clutched the strap and reached
forward.
But the table was between them, and Dick had never felt more like a
Lionheart than at that moment.
"You shall never beat me again, or call me names, never!" he cried, as
he opened the door and dashed out into the November night.
There was a dense fog outside that seemed to swallow him instantly, and
by the time Fowley got to the door the boy had vanished.
"He's escaped me this time, but he shall have a double dose when I set
eyes on him again," said the man grimly, as he hung up the strap; "I'll
let him know about father's money!"
"But who could have told him?" asked his wife, in a frightened tone.
"What if he goes with his tale to the police, or to that meddling
doctor, that took such notice of him. He's never been the same boy
since then."
"Police! not he, but if he should, 'mum's' the word, mind. We never
had naught but just enough to pay for the buryin'. He'll be back
again, meek enough, come bedtime, and then you can find out.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28