I looked at him intently and felt troubled, for he frowned a little, and, before I knew what I was saying, the words slipped:
“You don’t mind Bigley Uggleston coming here, do you, father?”
“Yes—no,” he said, sitting up up very stiffly. “I don’t like your giving up old companions, Sep, or seeming to be proud; but there are beginning to be reasons why you should not be quite so intimate with young Uggleston.”
“Oh, father!” I exclaimed dolefully. “Why, I thought that you and old Uggleston were good friends now.”
“Oh, yes; the best of friends,” said my father sarcastically. “He pays his rent regularly, and we always speak civilly to each other when we meet.”
As he spoke there was a look in his face which seemed to say, “We don’t like each other all the same.”
“Look here, Sep,” continued my father. “You are getting a big fellow now, and I am going to speak very plainly to you; of course, you understand that this is in confidence; it is quite private.”
“Yes, father,” I said sadly.
“Then you must understand that, though Jonas Uggleston is my tenant here, he is not a very satisfactory one, for there can be no doubt that he carries on rather a risky trade; but, so long as the authorities do not interfere with him, and he behaves himself, I am not going to take upon myself the task of being his judge.”
“No, father.”