“What sort of a claim?” inquired the blacksmith.
“Wa’al, its a good claim.”
“Are you his guardian, legally appointed by the court?”
“No, I ain’t his guardian, but I’ve got a claim on him.”
“Have you legally adopted him?”
“Course not. Think I’d adopt sech a lazy boy?”
“It’s rather strange that you should be so insistent on having a ‘lazy’ boy, as you call him, work for you. But can you produce any papers, showing that you have a legal claim on him?”
“I ain’t got no papers, an’ I don’t want none. I’ve got a claim on him, an’ I’m goin’ t’ have him. Didn’t I save him from goin’ t’ th’ poorhouse, an’ ain’t I fed an’ clothed him since?”
“If you have, he has more than earned what he got. Dan,” went on the aged veteran, “you need not go back to the farm unless you want to. Squire Perkfell will tell you that Mr. Savage has no legal claim on you.”
“I guess that’s right,” ventured the Justice though he rather disliked to side with the boy who had been a prisoner before him.