“Thank you,” said Paul. “If you do, my father will pay you back.”
“The master’s apt to be ’ard, but stand up to ’im. ’E likes men with grit to stand up and face ’im,” advised Amos, as the three went out to their work.
“Well, those are men with hearts, and true friends, and even if they are rough looking, they’re gentlemen,” remarked Paul, as the door closed.
“’T ain’t clothes or money as makes a man,” said Dan. “Dad says ’tis th’ heart under th’ shirt.”
They dreaded the meeting with David MacTavish, the factor, and for half an hour they hesitated to face the ordeal.
“But they ain’t no use puttin’ un off,” suggested Dan, finally, after they had discussed at some length the probable outcome of the coming interview. “What we has t’ do, we has t’ do, an’ th’ sooner ’tis done th’ sooner ’tis over. An’ you knows wonderful well, Paul, how t’ talk t’ he.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” declared Paul, working up his courage. “Let’s go now and see if he’s in the office.”
Factor MacTavish was in his office, busy with accounts, when they entered, but for full ten minutes he ignored their presence. Finally looking up he said, in a much pleasanter tone than that of the previous evening:
“Come here, boys.”
They stepped up to his desk.