"A good idea," replied Master Putnam, also laughing. "Oh, by the way, Ezekiel, I wonder if you could do a little errand for me?" and the young man took out his purse and began opening it. "You are not in a great hurry, are you?"
"Hurry, is for fools!"
"You know where my brother Thomas lives? Up this road?" They were just where two roads joined, one leading by his own house, and the other past his brother's.
"I wish I knew the road to heaven as well."
"You know how to keep silent, and how to talk also, Ezekiel—especially when you are well paid for it?"
The old man laughed. "A little bullet sometimes makes a big hole," he said.
"I want you to go to my brother Thomas, and say simply these words:—Ipswich Crown and Anchor. Very important indeed. At once. Wait till he comes."
"All right." And he held out his hand, into which Master Joseph put as much silver as the old man could make in a whole week's work.
"You are not to remember who sent you, or anything else than those words. Perhaps you have been drinking rather too much cider, you know. Do you understand?"
The old man's face assumed at once a very dull and vacant expression, and he said in that impressive manner which rather too many glasses is apt to give, "Ipswich. Crown and Anchor. Very important indeed. At once. Wait till he comes."