“He’s growing a sharp one,” thought the father, half gratified, half annoyed. Then aloud—
“Oh no, Sam, I don’t think that.”
“You don’t want to think that, father,” said Sam, drawing himself up importantly.
“Oh yes, my boy,” said James Brandon. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“No, father, of course not; it would be getting you into a scrape as well. Look here, suppose I slip down and get the deeds without being seen—without any one being a bit the wiser?”
James Brandon shook his head.
“Oh, I don’t want the job,” said Sam coolly.
His father was silent for a few moments, and Sam took out a knife, threw himself back in his chair, and began to trim his nails.
“But look here, Sam,” said James Brandon at last, and he seemed to be in a nervous, excited state. “It is of vital importance to me that I should have those papers.”
“Then if I were you I should go down and get them, father,” said Sam coolly.