"But who, my dear Eliza," Samuel would say to his wife--"who could
understand such a boy? Look at this last performance of his!
Purchasing pictures of _actors_! Where does he get such low
tastes?--unless some of your family were interested in such things?"

"Oh no, Samuel; no, indeed," Mrs. Wright protested nervously.

"And to use money not his own! Do you know what that is called, my
dear Eliza? It is called--"

"Oh don't, Samuel." whimpered the poor mother.

"And to think how carefully I have trained him! And all I have done
for him. I let him buy that skiff he said he wanted. Absolute waste of
money! Our old rowboat is good enough for the girls, so why isn't it
good enough for him? And I never laid a hand on him in punishment
either; not many fathers can say that."

As for the bank supplies young Sam had explained to his mother that
they had been ordered and charged, so what _was_ the matter? And
Mrs. Wright kneading her tear-soaked handkerchief into a ball, cried
some more and said:

"Oh, Sam dear, why do you act so?"

Sam looked at her attentively, wondering why her little nose always
reddened when she cried. But he waited patiently, until she finished
her rambling reproaches. It occurred to him that he would tell Mrs.
Richie all about this matter of the prints. "She will understand," he
thought.