"I got to have it."
"That's all you can get out of him," Adams said. "He seems to think it'll bring him in three hundred and fifty dollars!"
A faint tremulousness became evident in the husky voice. "Haven't you got it?"
"No, I haven't got it!" his father answered. "And I've got to go to a bank for more than my pay-roll next week. Do you think I'm a mint?"
"I don't understand what you mean, Walter," Mrs. Adams interposed, perplexed and distressed. "If your father had the money, of course he'd need every cent of it, especially just now, and, anyhow, you could scarcely expect him to give it to you, unless you told us what you want with it. But he hasn't got it."
"All right," Walter said; and after standing a moment more, in silence, he added, impersonally, "I don't see as you ever did anything much for me, anyhow—either of you."
Then, as if this were his valedictory, he turned his back upon them, walked away quickly, and was at once lost to their sight in the darkness.
"There's a fine boy to've had the trouble of raising!" Adams grumbled. "Just crazy, that's all."
