“What! is this a relation of yours, sir?” said Mr. Palfrey to Jonathan.
“Aye, it’s my innicent of a brother, sure enough,” said honest Jonathan. “A fine trouble and cost he is to us, in th’ eating and other things, but we must bear what’s laid on us.”
“And your name’s Freely, is it?” said Mr. Prettyman.
“Nay, nay, my name’s Faux, I know nothing o’ Freelys,” said Jonathan, curtly. “Come,” he added, turning to David, “I must take some news to mother about Jacob. Shall I take him with me, or will you undertake to send him back?”
“Take him, if you can make him loose his hold of me,” said David, feebly.
“Is this gentleman here in the confectionery line your brother, then, sir?” said Mr. Prettyman, feeling that it was an occasion on which formal language must be used.
“I don’t want to own him,” said Jonathan, unable to resist a movement of indignation that had never been allowed to satisfy itself. “He ran away from home with good reasons in his pocket years ago: he didn’t want to be owned again, I reckon.”
Mr. Palfrey left the shop; he felt his own pride too severely wounded by the sense that he had let himself be fooled, to feel curiosity for further details. The most pressing business was to go home and tell his daughter that Freely was a poor sneak, probably a rascal, and that her engagement was broken off.
Mr. Prettyman stayed, with some internal self-gratulation that he had never given in to Freely, and that Mr. Chaloner would see now what sort of fellow it was that he had put over the heads of older parishioners. He considered it due from him (Mr. Prettyman) that, for the interests of the parish, he should know all that was to be known about this “interloper.” Grimworth would have people coming from Botany Bay to settle in it, if things went on in this way.
It soon appeared that Jacob could not be made to quit his dear brother David except by force. He understood, with a clearness equal to that of the most intelligent mind, that Jonathan would take him back to skimmed milk, apple-dumpling, broad beans, and pork. And he had found a paradise in his brother’s shop. It was a difficult matter to use force with Jacob, for he wore heavy nailed boots; and if his pitchfork had been mastered, he would have resorted without hesitation to kicks. Nothing short of using guile to bind him hand and foot would have made all parties safe.