“I don’t see how you can say that.”
“Ye don’t, eh? well I say it, jest th’ same, an’ I tell ye what, ye’ve got t’ pay us back in some way.”
“What’s th’ matter?” inquired Mr. Savage, coming in from the barn. “Hey, Dan! Ain’t ye back at shellin’ corn yet? Land sakes! I never see sech a lazy boy!”
“Look a-here!” exclaimed Mrs. Savage. “This quarter’s a counterfeit,” and she quickly told the story of it.
“Land o’ Tunket!” cried Mr. Savage. “I’ve been swindled, that’s what I have. That was a slick feller, what was talkin’ t’ ye that day, Dan. It’s all your fault, too. Ef ye hadn’t been so ready t’ answer his questions he’d a gone on about his business, an’ I wouldn’t be out a quarter. It’s all your fault.”
As the quarter had been given for a few minutes of Dan’s not very valuable time, it was hard to understand where Mr. Lee was out of pocket. But, like most unreasonable men, if he once believed a thing, he seldom changed his mind.
“Shall I take a good quarter back to Mr. Lee?” asked Dan. “I promised him I would.”
“Wa’al, I guess not. Ye’ve loafed enough fer one day. I’ll take him a quarter when I git good an’ ready. Now ye’d better start t’ weedin’ th’ onion patch. It needs it, an’ don’t be all day about it, nuther. Step lively, I never see sech a lazy boy!”
Dan did not reply, but, as he went to the big onion patch, which he hated almost as much as he did the corn sheller, he could not help thinking of the man who had given his employer the counterfeit money.
“There’s something queer about that man,” thought Dan. “He isn’t what he seems to be, a book agent. I wonder if he can be a counterfeiter?”