CHAPTER VIII.
SQUIRE PAGET MAKES A MOVE.
Percy Paget had not expected to see Ralph, and he was very much disconcerted when brought thus unexpectedly face to face with the young bridge tender.
"Why—er—you here?" he stammered, as he flung aside his hat.
"He has been telling a fine string of falsehoods against you, my son!" put in the squire, ere Ralph could speak.
"And what has he been saying?" demanded the aristocratic bully, coolly. "Has he been telling you how I had to polish him off for insulting me?"
"No; he tells me that you stole a twenty-dollar bill from him!"
Percy was about to burst out into violent language, that would have astonished even his indulgent parent, but suddenly he changed his mind and allowed an injured look to cross his face.
"I hope, father, you don't believe any such outrageous story about me," he said, plaintively.
"Of course I don't," returned the squire, promptly. "I know my son will not steal."
"Ralph is mad because I gave him a good thrashing," went on the only son.
"I imagine the boot is on the other foot," put in Ralph. "It is Percy who got the worst of the encounter."
"He says you refused to pay the toll," went on Squire Paget.
"I only refused after he had called me all sorts of names," retorted the only son. "I was going over to Eastport, but after I had to teach him a lesson, I concluded to remain on this side."
"You are not telling the truth!" cried Ralph, indignantly. "It was you who insulted me, and I gave you a good deal less than you deserved in the shape of a whipping for doing it."
"Stop! stop!" stormed the squire. "I will have no quarrel in my house! Nelson, don't you know it is all wrong to fight on the bridge?"
"I didn't fight. I stopped your son when he refused to pay toll, that was all."
"I do not believe it."
"Believe it or not, it's true. But I came here for another purpose than to speak of the quarrel, as you know. I want Percy to make good the twenty dollars which belonged to me."
"I ain't got your twenty dollars—never had them!" blustered the aristocratic bully. "If you say I have, I'll pitch you out of the house!"
"Gently, Percy——"
"I don't care, father. It makes me mad to have this upstart speak to me in this fashion!"
"I know it does, but control yourself, my son. We will find a way to punish him at another time."
"Can't you have him discharged? He ain't fit to be the tender of the bridge; he's so insulting!"
"Perhaps," returned the squire, a sudden idea flashing across his mind.
It would assist his schemes wonderfully to have Ralph Nelson discharged.
"You had my twenty-dollar bill, and you paid it over to Mr. Dicks," said Ralph. "You can't deny it."
At these words Percy staggered back, for the unexpected shot had struck home.
"Who—who says I paid the bill over to Mr. Dicks?"
"Will Dicks himself. You bought cigarettes, and gave him the bill to change."
"I gave him a twenty-dollar bill, but it wasn't yours."
"It was, and I can prove it."
"How?"
"By a grease spot in one corner, made by the butter on a sandwich I had."
"Is that all?" sneered Percy.
"I think that's enough."
"Well, hardly. I guess there are a good many bills with grease spots on them floating around."
For the moment Ralph was nonplussed. The aristocratic bully saw it and went on:
"You are afraid you are going to lose your place, and you want to get me and my father in your power, so we can help you keep it. But it won't work, will it, father?"
"Hardly, my son. We are not to be browbeaten in this style," remarked Squire Paget, pompously.
"Then you do not intend to make good the amount?" asked Ralph, shortly, disgusted at the way in which the squire stood up for Percy.
"I shall not give you twenty dollars when I don't owe it to you," said Percy.
"Will you tell me where you got that twenty-dollar bill?"
"I got it in Chambersburgh last week. A man asked me to change it for him and I did so."
Percy had thought out this falsehood before, and now he uttered it with the greatest of ease.
"I believe my son speaks the truth," added Squire Paget. "You had better be going and hunt for your money elsewhere."
"I don't believe he ever had twenty dollars, excepting he saved it out of the toll money," sneered Percy, and he walked from the room.
Burning with indignation, but unable to help himself toward obtaining his rights, Ralph arose and without another word left the squire's mansion. It was too late to attempt to do more that night, and after some hesitation he went home.
Squire Paget watched him leave the garden, and then locked the front door and went back to the library.
"Ralph Nelson is getting too important, in his own estimation," he mused. "I thought he was a mere youngster who could be twisted around one's finger, but I was mistaken. I must get him out of his situation and compel him to leave Westville, if possible. I can't do much while he is around here."
Squire Paget sat for half an hour in his easy chair thinking over his plans. Then he went to bed.
After breakfast he started out to pay a visit to Benjamin Hooker, the village postmaster. Hooker, Dicks and the squire were close friends, and they constituted a majority of the village board, which controlled the bridge and other local matters.
"Well, squire, what brings you around this morning so early?" questioned the postmaster, for it was an hour before regular mail time.
"I come to see you about committee matters," returned Squire Paget. "I have got to report against Ralph Nelson, our bridge tender."
"What's he been a-doing, squire?"
"He insulted and assaulted my only son yesterday in a most outrageous fashion, without provocation."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed the postmaster. "I thought Nelson was quite a gentlemanly boy."
"I never did, Benjamin, never! He is nothing but a young tough."
"It's too bad."
"He isn't fit to have on the bridge any longer, and I move we give him a week's notice," went on the squire. "We don't want passengers on the bridge insulted on their way over."
"That's so, squire. But what caused the row?"
"Nothing at all, excepting that Nelson has taken a dislike to my son. And he is such a wicked boy, too, Benjamin. Why, when he heard that my son was going to proceed against him, what do you suppose he did?"
"What did he do?" questioned the postmaster, eagerly.
"Actually accused my son of stealing twenty dollars from him."
"Gracious!"
"Isn't that enough to provoke a saint, Benjamin? Do you wonder I wish to take him in hand?"
"Not at all, squire; not at all."
"And you will vote to remove him, won't you?"
"Certainly—if you wish it," replied Benjamin Hooker, who was under obligation to the squire, for money loaned. "But we can't remove him without another vote in the board."
"I know that. Come with me to Uriah Dicks', and I'll tell him about the matter. Uriah will stand by us, I know, in a case like this."
As there would be nothing to do in the office for at least half an hour, the postmaster readily consented to accompany the squire, leaving the place in charge of the clerk.
Five minutes later the two stepped into Uriah Dicks' general store. They found the old man talking earnestly to Ralph and a stranger, who was none other than Horace Kelsey.