_Dad._ Can I honestly say that one is more foolish than the other?
Wouldn't I be helping him if I gave the money to the cats, and let
my son go out and earn his living as best he can? Let him go down to
my office and earn his twelve dollars a week, the same as any other
young jackass--

_Jack (stepping forward)._ Dad, don't you really think it's time you
let me get a word in?

_Dad._ I'm tired of your words, young man.

_Jack._ You won't be troubled with them any more. I'm going to take
myself out of your way. I don't want your quarter of a million
dollars, and I don't want your twelve a week.

_Dad._ Indeed, sir! And what may this mean?

_Jack._ It means that I'm going out into the world as a hobo.

_Dad. What?_

_Jack._ That's it!

_Dad._ Clever! Upon my word, a clever scheme! _(To the others.)_
Look at him! The nerve of him! He knows he's misbehaved, and that
I'll be angry--so he goes and puts on a masquerade costume, and
tries to frighten me with a threat of turning hobo!

_Jessie._ Dad, it isn't that! He means to go!