“I don’t want to poison Imogene,” he growled.
The Squire was still silent.
“Well, say it,” snapped Hiram. “It’s on your mind. Let’s have it. I’m gettin’ used to bein’ called names.”
But his brother only shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered to the ground. He turned and walked back toward his office.
Hiram gazed after him as long as he was in sight, and then he went into the barn. The big doors at the rear were open, and the elephant, with eyes directed on the soothing landscape, was comfortably weaving to and fro. She crooked her trunk at him as he came near and curved it around his shoulders when he stood beside her.
“Old girl,” he said, mournfully, “I reckon the cards was stacked when they dealt me my hand in this game o’ life. I’m a storm centre that would put a barometer out of business, but”—he took hold of her ragged ear and shouted into it, as though the affirmation did his resolution good,—“it’s me for the Willard family, just the same, and Phin along with me at the finish. You never did give a continental for me, old girl, till I had licked you to a standstill, and I know families that’s like you.”
CHAPTER VI—SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH
For the dearest affection the heart can hold