father.

"You've no business with pocket money," said Squire Ripley sternly.
"You have no idea of the value of it."

"I thought I had made a good bargain," said Fred sullenly.

"So does every fool who parts with his money as easily as you
do," returned the lawyer. "Well, enjoy yourself, my boy. If
you'd rather have that paralyzed pony than the money I gave you
to enjoy the summer with, I suppose you're entitled to your choice,
though I don't like your judgment."

"Of course," suggested Fred, "since I've met with misfortune you
won't be too hard on me. You'll let me have a little more money,
so I won't have to go through the summer like a mucker."

"I'll give you no more spending money this summer," retorted the
lawyer, adding, grimly: "If I did, you'd probably go and buy a
cart to match your horse."

In fact Fred felt so uncomfortable at home that, just after dark,
he started up Main Street.

"Where's your horse, Fred?" called Bert Dodge. "Why are you walking
when you own one of the best steeds that ever came out of Arabia?"

"Shut up, won't you?" demanded Fred sulkily.

Bert chuckled for a while before he went on: