“I didn’t suppose anything would come of your explosive ideas,” he said, “but you have been the best man of us all. Mr. Berkeley says he is going to make you a landed proprietor.”
“I don’t want any town-lots,” said Chap. “What I want is to be captain of a tug-boat.”
“All right,” said Mr. Muller. “If the town ever owns a tug-boat, I’ll see that you command her.”
On two stout brackets, over the dining-room mantel-piece at Hyson Hall, and secured to the wall by a stout hasp and padlock, hangs Old Bruden.
When Mr. Berkeley heard Susan’s story about the gun, her superstition pleased his fancy, for he was an imaginative man.
“It shall always be the master’s gun,” he said, when he hung it there; “and when we shall have built our town, and paid our debts, and I shall go to the city to practise law, Hyson Hall shall belong to my dear Phil, and his shall be the master’s gun.”
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.