“Where is he going?” cried Phil. “He oughtn’t to leave like this. I’ll go and see him.”
“You’d better not,” said Joel. “He’s just white mad; and Susan’s been telling me you’ve had one scrimmage to-day. He’s going to town, and wants me to take him in the buggy. He’s an ugly customer, and you’d better let him go. I suppose I can take the buggy?”
Phil thought a moment, and then concluded that, as Emile would certainly go, it would be better to let him do so without further words.
“All right,” said he to Joel. “You can bring down his trunk, and drive him to town.” And then, turning to the housekeeper, who was crossing the hall, he said, “Susan, will you please go up-stairs and pack Emile’s trunk? You can gather up all his things and put them into it, and then Joel will come and get it when he has hitched the horse to the buggy.”
“Certainly,” said Susan; “and I’ll be glad enough to do it.”
And she promptly went up-stairs.
No more astonished boy than Chap ever stood upon a porch. The story of the three brothers, the account of Emile’s thrashing, even the astounding news in regard to the Touron mortgage, had not had such an effect upon him as this obedience on the part of Susan. He stood with his mouth open, not knowing what question to ask first.
“You see Susan has come round all right,” said Phil, who had noticed his friend’s amazement.
“What did you do to her?” gasped Chap. “Did you squirt kerosene into her room—I thought of that myself, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to stand it long—or did you pay her up?”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Phil. “She just came round naturally.”