The farmer seemed to have lost his wits; he could not carry it high, as he had done with Will. Mistaking the tone in which Mr. Lawrence spoke, and impelled by a guilty conscience, he dropped on his knees and said pleadingly, “Oh, don’t turn us all out; don’t turn us all out! Don’t sue me; I’ll—I’ll pay all the rent!”
Further comment is needless; the reader will now readily understand why Mr. Jackson’s roughness gave place to humbleness and wheedling when he heard Will’s name, and why he so dreaded an interview with Mr. Lawrence.
The latter gentleman spoke kindly to the supplicant. “Come, come, Jackson,” he said, “don’t behave like that. In this free country you shouldn’t play the spaniel to any man. I promise that I will not bring an action yet; I will grant you one more chance. But come to the house to-morrow, and we can talk over the matter at leisure. Don’t explain; I see just what has happened to my headlong boy: but so long as he is not hurt, I am satisfied. As you hardly know him, I can, from your looks and his, figure the scene you have had. Now, I don’t like him to be abused by—but no; never mind that; it can be pocketed. As for the actual damage done, I think you will admit that ten dollars will settle your claims, and I am going to pay it to you.”
Mr. Jackson gathered himself up, looking crestfallen and foolish, and was so penetrated with gratitude that he refused the money, till forced to receive it. According to Mr. Lawrence’s notions the man would now be induced to make strenuous exertions to pay all that he owed.
Father, son, and pony, now started for home. Having made their way out of the gate into the road, Will found the forlorn little gamins, hungering for even a glimpse of the frolicsome leaper, still lingering in their second position. Poor little fellows, they had not ventured even to climb the fence. They knew Mr. Jackson—and Mr. Jackson knew them. They cast reverent glances at Go It, but they beheld Will as one might behold a traveller returned in safety from a voyage to the planets.
“I’ll bet he ketched it!” muttered a light-legged member of the group, with a chuckle that disclosed he spoke from bitter experience. “Won’t the rest of ’em wish they’d seen this show!”
The horse Mr. Lawrence had ridden was tied near these urchins. Both mounted him, and then, leading the runaway and headstrong horse, the picturesque cavalcade set off.
“Pa,” said Will, “I’m sorry this happened, and that you had to pay out that money.”
“No, Will: say nothing about that. I blame myself for letting you mount the half-broken nag; I should have had more prudence. But tell me how it all was, and just what Jackson said to you.”
Will did so; and in the recital he waxed so eloquent that the rogue was set forth in his true colors, and appeared so frightful a monster that Will himself shivered with horror.