Uncle Peabody had sat splintering the long stick of yellow birch. I observed that the jackknife trembled in his hand. His tone had a touch of unnaturalness, proceeding no doubt from his fear of the man before him, as he said:
"When I bought that stove I felt richer than I do now. I had almost enough to settle with you up to date, but I signed a note for a friend and had to pay it."
"Ayuh! I suppose so," Grimshaw answered in a tone of bitter irony which cut me like a knife-blade, young as I was. "What business have you signin' notes an' givin' away money which ain't yours to give—I'd like to know? What business have you actin' like a rich man when you can't pay yer honest debts? I'd like to know that, too?"
"If I've ever acted like a rich man it's been when I wa'n't lookin'," said Uncle Peabody.
"What business have you got enlargin' yer family—takin' another mouth to feed and another body to spin for? That costs money. I ain't no objection if a man can afford it, but the money it costs ain't yours to give. It looks as if it belonged to me. You spend yer nights readin' books when ye ought to be to work an' you've scattered that kind o' foolishness all over the neighborhood. I want to tell you one thing, Baynes, you've got to pay up or git out o' here."
He raised his cane and shook it in the air as he spoke.
"Oh, I ain't no doubt o' that," said Uncle Peabody. "You'll have to have yer money—that's sure; an' you will have it if I live, every cent of it. This boy is goin' to be a great help to me—you don't know what a good boy he is and what a comfort he's been to us!"
I had understood that reference to me in Mr. Grimshaw's complaint and these words of my beloved uncle uncovered my emotions so that I put my elbow on the wood-box and leaned my head upon it and sobbed.
"I tell ye I'd rather have that boy than all the money you've got, Mr. Grimshaw," Uncle Peabody added.
My aunt came and patted my shoulder and said: "Sh—sh—sh! Don't you care, Bart! You're just the same as if you was our own boy—ayes!—you be."