“If you will, my dear. I am so stiff it is hard to get up.”
Both girls went to the chest of drawers and brought out a small box of letters. Mrs. Breen put on her glasses and fumbled them over and brought forth three communications which were, as the boys recognized, in Job Haskers’s well-known jerky handwriting. She passed them over to be read, and all present perused them with interest.
The contents, however, were disappointing, especially to the boys and Dunston Porter, who had hoped to find something by which legally to 39 hold the school-teacher. Not once did Job Haskers mention that he owed Mrs. Breen any money. He simply stated that he regretted he could do nothing for her, that times were hard, and that his income was limited and hard to get. He said as little as possible, and the tone of the communications showed that he hoped he would hear no more from the old lady who had done what she could to aid him.
“I think this is the limit!” said Dave to his uncle. “Don’t you think he ought to be sued?”
“I don’t know about suing him, Dave; but I think this ought to be put in a lawyer’s hands.”
“He makes money enough to pay this lady,” said Phil. “Say, I’ve a good mind to give him a piece of my mind!” he added, hotly.
“I’ll look into this when I come back this way,” said Dunston Porter, after a little more talk. “Perhaps I can get one of our lawyers to prod this Haskers a little, and also state the case to Doctor Clay.”
“Oh, will you do that, Uncle Dunston?” cried Laura, brightening, for she, as well as all of the others, felt sorry for Mrs. Breen, who seemed so poor, old, and lonesome.
“Yes, I’ll do it. And now we had better be on our way,—if we want to reach Oakdale by noon,” went on Mr. Porter.
The boys went out, followed by Jessie. Laura 40 lingered, to whisper something in her uncle’s ear. Dunston Porter nodded, and then Laura joined the others.