cup of tea, Mrs. Brandon," he said. "It seems pleasant to be at home again after my long absence."
"I shouldn't think he would like to refer to his imprisonment," thought Grit.
"I hope soon to be in business," continued Brandon, "and we shall then be able to live in better style. When that time comes I shall be willing to have Grit retain his small earnings, stipulating only that he shall buy his own clothes, and pay his mother, say a dollar and a quarter a week, for board."
He said this with the air of a man who considered himself liberal, but neither Grit nor his mother expressed their sense of his generosity.
"Of course, just at present," Mr. Brandon proceeded, "I have no money. The minions of the law took from me all I had when they unjustly thrust me into a foul dungeon. For a time, therefore, I shall be compelled to accept Grit's earnings, but it will not be for long."
Grit said nothing to this hint, but all the same he determined, whether for a short or a long time, to resist the exactions of his stepfather.
As for Brandon, his change of front was induced by the thought that he could accomplish by stratagem what he might have had some difficulty in securing by force. He still had twenty-five cents of the dollar which his wife had given him in the morning.
When supper was over he rose, and, putting on his hat, said:
"I am going to the village on business. I shall be home in good season. Are you going my way, Grit?"
"Not just at present," answered Grit.
Mother and son looked at each other when they were alone.
"I suppose he's gone to the tavern," said Grit.
"Yes, I presume so," said his mother, sighing.
"Well, mother, I didn't give up the money."
"No, Grit, but he means to have it yet."
"He's welcome to it if he can get it," said the boy manfully.
"You haven't got the sixty dollars with you?" said his mother anxiously.
"No, they are safe. I have kept only two dollars, thinking you might need some groceries."
"Yes, I do, Grit. They go off faster, now that we have another mouth to feed."
"Suppose you make out a list of what you want, mother, and I will go up to the store this evening. I may as well save Mr. Brandon from temptation."
His mother made a list, and Grit, putting it in his pocket, walked up to the village.
The groceries, with a pound of steak, cost a dollar and ninety cents.
As Grit took the bundles and walked homeward, he thought to himself.
"Mr. Brandon wouldn't feel very well repaid for his trouble if he should take all I have left. He ought to be satisfied with free board, without expecting us to supply him with pocket-money besides. I wonder what he would say if he knew how much money I have deposited with Fred Lawrence?"
Grit congratulated himself that his stepfather was not likely to make this discovery, but in this he reckoned without his host.
Mr. Brandon made the discovery that same evening. How it came about will appear in the next chapter.
CHAPTER X.
BRANDON LEARNS GRIT'S SECRET
"I had no idea the boy had grown so much," said Brandon to himself, as he directed his course toward the tavern. "I thought he was a little kid, but he's almost as big as I am. He's kind of obstinate, too, but he'll find out who's master before long. It's ridiculous, his expectin' to have the handlin' of all the money that comes into the house. Just as if he had any judgment—a boy of his age."
The chances are that Grit's judgment in the matter would have proved better than Brandon's, since the latter proposed to spend a large portion of the money for drink.
"I expect the boy makes a good thing out of his boating," resumed Mr. Brandon. "He owned up that he had almost two dollars, and it's likely he earned it all to-day."
Presently Brandon reached the tavern, and entered the barroom.
He called for whisky, and swallowed it with gusto.
"You may charge it to me," said he carelessly; "I'll pay once a week."
"We don't care to do business that way," said the barkeeper.
"You ain't afraid I won't pay you?" said Brandon, in a tone of affected indignation.
"I don't know whether you would or not, but our terms are cash."
"Oh, well, if you're so strict as that, take it out of this quarter," said Brandon, throwing his sole remaining coin on the counter.
Fifteen cents were returned to him, and in half an hour that sum was also expended at the bar.
It might have been supposed that Brandon would be satisfied, but he was not. He made an attempt to obtain another drink on credit, but the barkeeper proved obdurate.
Then he engaged in a game of cards, and about half-past nine set out to go home, in a better condition than if he had had more money to spend.
"This will never do!" he muttered, in a discontented tone; "I can't be kept so short as this. It is humiliating to think of me, a grown man, going round without a cent in my pocket, while my stepson is reveling in money. I won't have it, and I'll let him understand it."
A few feet in front of Brandon two boys were walking. One of them was Phil Courtney, and the other Dick Graham, a poor boy, who, by proper subserviency, had earned a position as chief favorite with his companion.
Brandon could not help hearing their conversation. He heard Grit's name mentioned, and this made him listen attentively.
"I can't understand where Grit got his money," Phil was saying.
"How much did you say he had?" inquired Dick.
"Sixty dollars!"
"Whew!"
Brandon felt like saying "Whew!" too, for his amazement was great, but he wanted to hear more, and remained silent.
"Are you sure there were sixty dollars?"
"Yes; my cousin Marion counted it."
"How did Grit happen to show his money?"
"He was boasting that he had more money than I, and I challenged him to show his money."
"I suppose he did show more?"
"Yes, I had only seventeen dollars. But what I can't understand is, where did a common boatman pick up so much money?"
"Perhaps he has been saving for a long time."
"Perhaps so, but I don't believe he could save so much," answered Phil.
"Perhaps he stole it."
Phil didn't believe this, but he would like to have believed it true.
"I
