"No. I sha'n't give you another cent!" Mr. Day said with vigor. "You have too much money to spend as it is." "Gee, Dad!" groaned his son, "there _ain't_ that much money, is there?" Mr. Day snorted: "Young spendthrift! When I was your age I never had ten cents a month for spending." "Huh!" said Marty. "I'm glad I didn't know Gran'dad Day then. He must have been some tightwad." "I saved my money--put it in the bank," snapped his father, who seemed very fretful indeed on this evening. "Well, _I've_ got money in the savings bank," sniffed Marty. "I s'pose I can take out some and get those hockey sticks and things I want. We're going to have a regular team this winter, Nelse Haley says, and play Middletown High." "Ye'll not take a cent out of the bank, d'ye hear me?" said his father, more sharply. "Ye'd never had it there if yer mother hadn't opened the account for you and give ye the book." "Well, now, Jason," put in Aunt 'Mira, "why shouldn't the boy have a little money to spend? All the other boys do. You air the clostest man----" "Close? close?" repeated Uncle Jason, his voice rising shrilly. "You think I'm close, do you? Well, lemme tell ye, I'll be closer, and this fambly'll live a sight more economical in the future than it has in the past. We ain't got no money to fool away----" "Aw, rats!" growled Marty under his breath, slamming shut his book and rising from the table. "That's always the way," he added. "Try to touch you for a cent and you'd think you was losing a patch of your hide." "Oh, Marty!" gasped Janice. "Don't!" "It's your father's way," croaked Aunt 'Mira, rocking violently. "Tech him in the pocketbook an' ye tech him on the raw." "By mighty!" ejaculated Mr. Day, crumpling his paper into a ball and throwing it on the floor. "If ever a man was so pestered----" "They don't mean it, Uncle Jason! They don't mean it," cried Janice, almost in tears. "They don't understand. But something must be the matter--something is troubling you----" "Well, why don't he tell then?" shrilled Mrs. Day. "If he's hidin' something----" Her husband rose up and turned to glare at both her and his son. His face was apoplectic; his lips twitched. Janice had never seen him moved in this way before and even Aunt 'Mira looked startled. "I _am_ hidin' somethin'," the man said harshly. "I been hidin' it for weeks. I'll tell ye all what 'tis now. Ye'd know it soon enough anyway." "Well, I vum!" murmured Aunt 'Mira. "Is he goin' ter finally tell it?" "Get it off your chest, Dad," Marty said carelessly. "You'll feel better." There was no sympathy expressed for him except in Janice Day's countenance. The man wet his lips, hesitated, and finally burst out with: