Presently the door was opened, and James Martin entered with an unsteady step. His breath was redolent with the fumes of alcohol, and his face wore the brutish, stupid look of one who was under the influence of intoxication. He was rather above the middle height, with a frame originally strong. His hair and beard had a reddish tinge. However he might have appeared if carefully dressed, he certainly presented an appearance far from prepossessing at the present moment.
Rough and Ready surveyed his stepfather with a glance of contempt and disgust, which he did not attempt to conceal. Rose clung to his side with a terrified look.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Martin, sinking heavily into a chair.
"I'm taking care of my sister," said the newsboy, putting his arm protectingly round Rose's neck.
"You'd better go to work. I can take care of her," said the stepfather.
"Nice care you take of her!" retorted the newsboy, indignantly.
"Don't you be impudent, you young rascal," said Martin, with an unsteady voice. "If you are, I'll give you a flogging."
"Don't talk to him, Rufie," said little Rose, who had reason to fear her stepfather.
"I must, Rosie," said the newsboy, in a low voice.
"What are you muttering there?" demanded the drunkard, suspiciously.
"Where are my sister's new clothes?" asked Rough and Ready.
"I don't know about any new clothes. She aint got any as I know of."
"She had some this morning,—some that I bought and paid for. What have you done with them?"
"I've sold 'em," said Martin, doggedly, his assumed ignorance ceasing. "That's what I've done with 'em."
"What did you sell them for?" demanded the newsboy, persistently.
"What business has she got with new clothes, when we haven't got enough to eat, I'd like to know?"
"If we haven't got enough to eat, it isn't my fault," said the boy, promptly. "I do my part towards supporting the family. As for you, you spend all your money for rum, and some of mine too."
"What business is it of yours?" said the drunkard, defiantly.
"I want you to bring back my sister's clothes. What have you done with them?"
"Do you want me to give you a flogging?" asked Martin, looking angrily at our hero from his inflamed eyes.
"Don't say any more to him, Rufus," said little Rose, timidly.