“No, I don't see. Now, look here, old man: I realize you're of age and that your money is your own, and all that. It isn't, legally speaking, one single bit my business if you take every cent you've got and sink it in the middle of Cape Cod Bay. But I promised your aunt before she died that I would try and see that you didn't do that kind of thing. She knew you couldn't take care of money; I knew it; why, confound it, you knew it, too! You and I talked that whole matter over and we agreed I wasn't to give you any large sums of your money, no matter how hard you begged for them, unless you told me why you wanted them and I was satisfied it was all right. Didn't we agree to that? Isn't that so?” “Why--why, yes, Cousin Gussie. You have been very kind. I appreciate it, I assure you.” “Oh, be hanged! I haven't been kind. I've only been trying to keep you from being TOO kind to people who work you for a good thing, that's all. Look here, Loosh: _I_ know what you've done with that thirteen thousand dollars.” Galusha shot one more pitiful glance in the direction of the kitchen. “Ah--ah--do you?” he stammered. “Yes. You've given it away, haven't you?” “Well--well, you see--” “You have? I knew it! And I know whom you've given it to.” There was no answer to be made to this appalling assertion. Poor Galusha merely clung to the receiver and awaited his death sentence. “You've given it to some mummy-hunter to fit out another grave-robbing expedition. Now, haven't you?” “Why--why--” “Be a sport now, Loosh! Tell me the truth. That's what you've done, isn't it?” Galusha hesitated, closing his eyes, struggled with his better nature, conquered it, and faltered: “Why--why--in a way of speaking, I suppose--” “I knew it! I bet Minor a dinner on it. Well, confound you, Loosh; don't you realize they're only working you for what they can get out of you? Haven't I told you not to be such an ass? You soft-headed old... Here! What's the matter with this wire? Hello, Central! Hello!...” The Cabot oration broke off in the middle and was succeeded by a series of rattles and thumps and jingles like a barrel of kitchenware falling downstairs; this was followed by a startling stillness, which was, in turn, broken by an aggrieved voice wailing: “Say, Central, why can't I get that twenty-seven ring fourteen Bayport? I bet you you've given me every other d----number on Cape Cod!”