Why, you and your grandmother can't take care of yourselves, or you couldn't if it wasn't for Uncle Arthur.

Mother says so.

You wouldn't have any house to live in if he hadn't given it to you,' Harold's arms were unfolded now and the doubled fists were in his pockets clenching themselves tighter and tighter as he advanced to Tom, who, remembering his black eye, began to back towards the nurse for safety.
'It's a lie, Tom Tracy,' Harold said.

'Mr.Arthur does not take care of us.

We do it ourselves, and have for ever so long.