“I did not think there was myself but I wanted to make sure of it. Could you deliver a message for me, Hopwood?”
Hopwood looked up eagerly. Collecting news and carrying messages were things he liked best to do. He did not have to speak. Scott could see that he was more than willing.
“I have some business I want to attend to, Hopwood,” Scott continued, “and I’ll have to go away for a couple of days. If I go now it will look as though I have thrashed Foster and then run away. I want you to tell Foster Wait, or maybe it would be better to tell Sewall, if he is the real head of the family, that I am going away for three days but will be back here Saturday. You can tell the same thing to Jarred, too, so that they will all know it. Do you think that you have it straight now?”
Hopwood nodded gravely. “I always get messages straight,” he replied proudly. “You are sure you will be back Saturday?” He had taken a strange liking to this man who had treated him like a rational being and thrashed his surly uncle.
“Yes, Hopwood, I’ll certainly be here Saturday without fail, and,” he added, for he could see how the friendship pleased Hopwood, “I would like to see you again pretty soon after I get back.”
He might as well have saved himself the trouble, for Hopwood had gone to deliver his precious message. Scott sighed when he saw that the man was gone. He could not get used to his unexpected movements. He wasted no more thoughts on it now. The dinner bell rang, on time for once, and the station agent came in the gate.
“Hear you beat up Foster Wait,” he grinned.
“Yes,” Scott admitted. “He forced it on me but I was glad of the opportunity. Who told you?”
“One of the Wait boys told me, but that would have been unnecessary after I saw Foster.”
“I wonder what the Waits will think of it?” Scott asked. He was anxious to have some one back up Hopwood’s opinion.