Randy of the River | Page 7

him.
"What a boy!" sighed the lady of the house. "He never considers my
comfort--and after all I have done for him!" And then she turned once
more to her precious novel.
It wanted half an hour to supper time and Bob, not caring to do
anything else, took himself back to his room. Like his mother, he, too,
loved to read. Stowed away in a trunk, he had a score or more of cheap
paper-covered novels, of daring adventures among the Indians, and of
alluring detective tales, books on which he had squandered many a
dime. One was called "Bowery Bob, the Boy Detective of the Docks; or,
Winning a Cool Million," and he wanted to finish this, to see how Bob
got the million dollars. The absurdity of the stories was never noticed

by him, and he thought them the finest tales ever penned.
He was deep in a chapter where the hero in rags was holding three men
with pistols at bay when he heard a noise below and saw his father
leaping from the family carriage. Mr. Bangs' face wore a look of great
satisfaction, showing plainly that his day's business had agreed with
him.
"How do you do, dad?" he said, running down to greet his parent.
"First-rate, Bob," said Mr. Bangs, with a smile. "How have things gone
with you to-day?"
"Not very well."
"What's the matter?"
"You forgot to give me my spending money this week."
"I thought I gave it to you Saturday."
"That was for last week."
"I think you are mistaken, Bob. However, it doesn't matter much," went
on Mr. Bangs, as he entered the house.
"Phew! He's in a fine humor to-night," thought Bob. "I'll have to strike
him for more than a dollar."
"Where's your mother?" went on the gentleman.
"In the sitting room, reading. But I say, dad, what about that money?"
"Oh, do you want it right away?"
"I'd like to have it after supper."
"Very well."

"Can I have three dollars? I want to buy something extra this
week--some things I really need."
"Ahem! Three dollars is quite a sum. I don't know of any other boy in
Riverport who gets as much as three dollars in one week to spend."
"Well, but they haven't as rich a father as I have."
"Ah, quite true," nodded Mr. Bangs, with satisfaction. "I think I can
safely lay claim to being the richest man in this district."
"Then I can have the three dollars?" went on Bob, anxiously.
"Yes. Here you are," and his parent brought forth a well-filled wallet
and handed over three new one-dollar bills.
Bob was stowing the money away in his pocket and congratulating
himself on his luck when a door opened and Mrs. Bangs appeared.
"So you are back, Amos," she said, sweetly. "It has been such a long,
lonesome day without you."
"And a busy day for me," answered Amos Bangs, as he passed into the
sitting room and dropped into an easy chair.
"Did you go to Springfield?"
"I did, and met Tuller and the rest. We've got that thing in our grip
now."
"Yes," she said, vaguely. In reality she took no interest whatever in her
husband's affairs so long as she got what money she desired.
"Yes, sir--we've got the thing just where we want it," continued Amos
Bangs.
"You mean----?" his wife hesitated.
"I mean that iron works affair of course, Viola. Can't you understand at

all?"
"Oh--er--yes, of course. Let me see, you were trying to get control so
you said."
"Exactly, and I've got it."
"Was not that the works in which Mr. Bartlett is interested?"
"The same."
"Did not he have the control?"
"Yes, but I have it now, and I am going to keep it," answered Amos
Bangs, with evident satisfaction.
"Do you mean Jack Bartlett's father, dad?" questioned Bob, eagerly.
"I do."
"Have you got the best of him?"
"Well, I have--ahem--carried my point and the iron works will be
absorbed by the concern in Springfield."
"And Jack Bartlett's father won't like that?"
"No. In fact, I am afraid he will fight it. But he can do nothing,
absolutely nothing," went on Amos Bangs. "I hold the whip hand--and I
shall continue to hold it."
"I hate the Bartletts and I hope you do get the best of them."
"This will make Mrs. Bartlett take a back seat," said Mrs. Bangs,
maliciously.
"Maybe you mean that seat in church," said Bob, slyly.
"Not that particularly, although it is time they went to the rear--they

have had a front seat so long. Amos, we must take a front seat now."
"As you please, Viola."
"And I must have some new dresses."
"You shall have them, my dear."
"You dear, good man!" cried the fashionable wife; and then