"And do you hear what I say?" demanded Gus. "I say those trunks go into the north rooms, which belong to me."
"Yes, sah! Yes, sah! Dat's all right, sah!" replied the obsequious darky, and into the north rooms the trunks went.
"That's the first step," said Gus to himself. "What would Bob think, if he knew it?"
One, to have taken a single glance at these apartments, could have told why Gus ordered his trunks taken in there. There were three of them—a sitting-room, bedroom, and a sort of conservatory, which Bob had fitted up as a museum. By the aid of his father and his father's sea-captains he had there gathered together such a supply of curiosities from all quarters of the globe that, the room being unable to contain them all, they had flowed into the others, and filled every nook and corner of them likewise. Here Gus settled himself down with the air of a conqueror. Not because the rooms were any pleasanter or more desirable than others in the house did he select them, but simply because he had determined to show his cousin that their circumstances were exactly reversed—that he was the favored child of fortune now and Bob the poor relation. The curiosities he cared nothing about. Indeed he told himself that when he felt in the right humor he would have them all removed and bundled into the garret as so much useless lumber. He expected to take quiet possession of everything that belonged to Bob, and whether or not he did so we shall presently see.
"Now, boy," said Gus, addressing himself to the negro after he had seen his trunks stowed away to his satisfaction, "what's your name?"
"Sam, sah; dat's my name."
"Well, Sam, I suppose my ponies are in the barn?"
"Yes, sah, de ponies is dar."
"My father has a hostler, I presume?"
"Sah? Oh, yes, sah."