“Ye wouldn’t do a dern thing, Tom,” he said, peaceably, “not a dern thing.”
He sidled towards the door, and reaching it, paused to reflect, shaking his head.
“Ef thar ain’t nothin’ to be made,” he said, “ye’v got ter hev a aim, an’ what is it?”
Observing that Tom made a move in his chair, he slipped through the doorway rather hurriedly. Sheba thought he was gone, but a moment later the door re-opened and he thrust his head in and spoke, not intrusively—simply as if offering a suggestion which might prove of interest.
“It begun with a ‘L,’” he said; “thar was a name on it, and it begun with a ‘L’.”
CHAPTER XI
It was upon the evening after this interview with Mr. Stamps that Tom broached to his young companion a plan which had lain half developed in his mind for some time.
They had gone into the back room and eaten together the supper Mornin had prepared with some extra elaboration to do honour to the day, and then Sheba had played with her doll Lucinda while Tom looked on, somewhat neglecting his newspaper and pipe in his interest in her small pretence of maternity.