“Now we’ll have to live better,” Abner explained.  “Mam and I gen’ally have to skirmish round for vittles.  We don’t often get meat.”

This frank confession rather alarmed Herbert.  He was not over self-indulgent, but he had never lacked for nourishing food, and the prospect of an uncertain supply was not encouraging.

When dinner was over—­there was no second course—­they left the table.  Joel Barton made a fresh attempt to extort a small sum from his wife, but was met with an inflexible refusal.  Mrs. Barton proved deaf alike to entreaties and threats.  She was a strong, resolute woman, and not one to be intimidated.

When Barton left the house, his look of disappointment had given place to one of cunning.

“Come here, Abner!” he said, beckoning to his son and heir.

“What for?”

“Never you mind.”

“But I do mind.  Do you want to catch hold of me?”

“No; it’s only a little matter of business.  It’s for your good.”

Abner accompanied his father as far as the fence.

“Now, what do you want?” he asked, with his eyes warily fixed on his father.

“I want you to find out where your marm keeps that money,” said Barton, in a coaxing tone.

“What for?”

“You’re to take it and bring it to me.”

“And go without eatin’?”

“I’ll buy the provisions myself.  I’m the head of the family.”

“Do you want me to hook money from marm?”

“‘Twon’t be hookin’.  The money by right belongs to me.  Ain’t I the head of the family?”

“I dunno about that.  Marm’s the boss, and always has been,” chuckled Abner.

Joel frowned, but immediately tried another attack.

“Of course I’ll give you some of it, Abner,” he resumed.  “If there’s five dollars I’ll give you a quarter.”

“I’ll see about it, dad.”

“Get it for me before evenin’, if you can.  I shall need it then.”

Abner returned to Herbert, and frankly related the conversation that had taken place between himself and his father.

Herbert was shocked.  He did not know what to think of the singular family he had got into.

“You won’t do it, will you?” he asked, startled.

“No, I won’t.  I want a quarter bad enough, but I’d rather mam would keep the money.  She’ll spend it for vittles, and dad would spend it for drink.  Wouldn’t you like to go a-fishin’?  It’s fine weather, and we’ll have fun.”

Herbert assented, not knowing how to dispose of his time.  Abner turned the conversation again on New York.  What Herbert had already told him had powerfully impressed his imagination.

“Haven’t you got any money?” he asked.

“No,” answered Herbert.  “Mr. Ford took away all I had, except this.”

He drew from his pocket a nickel.

“That won’t do no good,” said Abner, disappointed.  “Stop a minute, though,” he added, after aminute’s pause.  “Wouldn’t your folks send you some money, if you should write to them?”