“’Fraid I can’t ’commodate ye; got to go down to widow Jenkins’s with my wood. Gee, Buck! Haw, Barry!” said the farmer, as he started on.
“Rich, why don’t ye pull it up yourself,” said an apprentice.
“Better get an axe and chop it down, if it’s such an eyesore to ye,” said another.
“Get a crowbar and dig it up. A little exercise will be good for ye,” said a third.
“Has Lillie engaged ye to get rid of the thing?” another asked.
“Did the Sons of Liberty smuggle it ashore during the night?”
Tom Brandon asked the question, which nettled Mr. Richardson exceedingly. Possibly the informer could not have said why he was so zealous for the removal of the effigy. He would not have been willing to admit that he was seeking to advance himself in the estimation of Hon. Theodore Newville, commissioner of imposts, and Hon. Nathaniel Coffin, his majesty’s receiver-general. Quite likely he could not have given any very satisfactory reason for his activity in attempting to remove the figure. He knew that the selectmen would be obliged to clear the street of the obstruction, but a display of loyalty to the king might possibly inure to his benefit. Boys on their way to school began to chaff the informer.
“Say, Poke Nose; how much are ye going to get for the job?” shouted one of the boys.
“You mind your own business.”
“That’s what you don’t do.”