“Never fear,” Dick assured him, “but what it’s going to be brought to a climax soon now. I think we’ve got the old gentleman so wrapped up in little Billy that he would accept a dozen relatives rather than have the youngster pass out of his life forever. The deacon is a changed man these days, lots of people have said; and we know what the reason for it is.”
“Are you meaning to let him meet his daughter-in-law as Mrs. Smith,” continued Leslie, “and get interested in her too, before he learns the staggering truth that Billy really belongs to him?”
“Mr. Holwell thinks that would be the best plan,” replied Dick. “He says if the deacon tries to meet the child’s mother soon, not to interfere.”
“Huh! the easiest way to bring that about,” said Leslie, eagerly, “would be just to have Billy stay at home a couple of days. Then you bet Mr. Nocker’ll hurry over and ask to see the child’s mother, so as to inquire about Billy.”
“Just what Mr. Holwell suggested,” remarked Dick. “I’ll speak to her about it tomorrow. We can fix it so when the surprise is sprung perhaps a few of us who are most interested may be on hand to see how the old man acts when he learns the truth.”
“Good for you, Dick!” cried Leslie. “I’d give a heap to be there when he hears that Billy is his sure-enough grandson. And I give you my word he’ll never dream of doing anything but taking Tilly, his boy Amos’ widow, to his heart to keep forever. Whee! but this is a glorious scheme you’ve been playing, a thousand times better all around than any one of Nat’s grand games, that are always cruel.”
“I’ve certainly had more real enjoyment out of it so far than Nat could have found in all his pranks bunched together,” asserted Dick. “Besides, it’s going to do several people good; and my mother has backed me up in it, which pleases me a whole lot in the bargain.”
“Listen! that’s the wind commencing to blow, and from the north, too, Dick. I had a hunch it’d come up strong about ten tonight, and give us some real winter weather again. How it moans around the corner of the house. They say that’s always a sure sign of cold weather.”
“Let it blow,” laughed Dick, “so far as I’m concerned. We’ve got a tight roof overhead, and plenty of coal in the cellar, for a time at least. If the cold gives us a thick coat of ice on the pond for skating, so much the better. But as you say it does begin to howl like sixty around that north end of the house.”
“Whee! I should think your Uncle Silas”—how Leslie did enjoy putting emphasis on that word “Uncle” whenever he spoke it—“would shake hands with himself over the change in his fortunes since he struck the Horner cottage. If he had to camp out on a night like this he’d shake half to pieces.”