Robert Coverdale's Struggle: or, on the Wave of Success

"Then I'll keep my distance from him."

"I would rather he would have the money than that you should get hurt,

Robert."

"Aunt Jane, I am going to take the risk of that. Though he is my uncle and your husband, there's one thing I can't help saying: It is a contemptibly mean thing not only to use all his own earnings for drink, but to try to get hold of what little I get for the same purpose."

"I don't deny it, Robert. I don't pretend to defend my husband. Once he was different, but drink has changed his whole nature. I never had any reason to complain before he took to drink."

"No doubt of it, aunt, but that don't alter present circumstances. I have no respect for my uncle when he acts as he has to-night. Come what may, there's one thing I am determined upon – he shan't have the money."

"You'll be prudent, Robert, for my sake?" entreated Mrs. Trafton.

"Yes, I'll be prudent. To-morrow morning I will get up early and be out of the way till after uncle is gone. There is no chance of his getting up early and going a-fishing."

The deep and noisy breathing made it probable that the fisherman would awaken at a late hour, as both Robert and his aunt knew.

She was reassured by his promise and prepared to go to bed. Soon all three inmates of the little cabin were sleeping soundly.

CHAPTER VII

THE NEXT MORNING

Robert rose at six the next morning and half an hour later took his breakfast. It consisted of fish, bread and a cup of tea, and though most of my young readers might not be satisfied with it – especially as there was no butter – Robert thought himself lucky to be so well provided for.

When his breakfast was finished he rose from the table.

"Now I'm off, Aunt Jane," he said.

"Where are you going, Robert?"

"I'll earn some money if I can. We've got a little, but it won't last long."

"It won't be very easy to find work, I am afraid."

"I shall be ready for anything that turns up, aunt. Something turned up yesterday when I didn't expect it."

"That's true."

Just then the fisherman was heard to stir in the adjoining room, and Robert, not wishing to be near when he awakened, hastily left the cabin to avoid a repetition of the scene of the previous night.

Mrs. Trafton breathed a sigh of relief when her nephew was fairly out of the way.

About an hour later her husband rose and without needing to dress – for he had thrown himself on the bed in his ordinary clothes – walked into the room where his wife was at work.

"Where's Robert?" he asked.

"He had his breakfast and went out."

"How long ago?"

"About an hour ago."

John Trafton scowled with disappointment.

"Is he round about home?"

"I don't think he is."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He said he would try to find a job."

"Why didn't you keep him? Didn't you know I wanted to see him?"

"You didn't ask me to keep him," said Mrs. Trafton nervously.

"I see how it is," said the fisherman; "you're in league with him."

"What do you mean by that, John?"

"You know well enough what I mean. You don't want him to give me that money."

Mrs. Trafton plucked up courage enough to say: "You ought not to ask for it, John."

"Why shouldn't I ask for it?" he demanded, pounding forcibly on the table.

"Because he means to spend it for things we need and you want it to spend at the tavern."

"There you are again – always twitting me because, after exposing myself to storm and the dangers of the sea, I take a little something to warm me up and make me comfortable."

To hear John Trafton's tone one might think him a grievously injured man.

"For two years, John Trafton, you have spent three-fourths of your earnings at the tavern," said his wife quietly. "You have left me to suffer want and privation that you might indulge your appetite for drink."

"You seem to be alive still," he said with an ugly sneer. "You don't seem to have starved."

"I might have done so but for Robert. He has brought me fish and bought groceries with what little money he could earn in various ways."

"Oh, it's Robert always!" sneered Trafton. "He is an angel, is he? He's only done his duty. Haven't I given him the shelter of my roof?"

"You haven't given him much else," retorted his wife.

"I've heard enough of that; now shut up," said the fisherman roughly.

"What have you got for breakfast?"

Mrs. Trafton pointed to the table, on which, while her husband had been speaking, she had placed his breakfast.