"We didn't get along at all. He wanted to boss me,
and ma and I wouldn't have it."
"So the upshot was that he had to leave the house
and you remained?"
"Yes, that's the way of it," said Peter, laughing.
"And Carl was actually sent out to earn his own living
without help of any kind from his father?"
"Yes."
"What is he doing?" asked Ashcroft, in some excitement.
"Good heavens! he may have suffered from hunger."
"Are you a friend of his?" asked Peter, sharply.
"I am a friend of anyone who requires a friend."
"Carl is getting along well enough. He is at work
in some factory in Milford, and gets a living."
"Hasn't he been back since he first left home?"
"No."
"How long ago is that?"
"Oh, 'bout a year," answered Peter, carelessly.
"How is Dr. Crawford? Is he in good health?"
"He ain't very well. Ma told me the other
day she didn't think he would live long.
She got him to make a will the other day."
"Why, this seems to be a conspiracy!" thought Ashcroft.
"I'd give something to see that will."
"I suppose he will provide for you and your mother handsomely?"
"Yes; ma said she was to have control of the property.
I guess Carl will have to stand round if he expects any favors."
"It is evident this boy can't keep a secret," thought Ashcroft.
"All the better for me. I hope I am in time to defeat this
woman's schemes."
"There's the house," said Peter, pointing it out.
"Do you think Dr. Crawford is at home?"
"Oh, yes, he doesn't go out much.
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