“And another thing, squire!” said the artful deacon. “You must do the right thing by the boy; you must do something handsome for Jack.”
“Yes, yes! sartin!” said Peternot. “I’ll make him a present; can’t say jest what, but somethin’ liberal, somethin’ fair and liberal, deacon, I promise!”
The deacon had to turn away to hide the smile upon his features. He did not press Peternot, to know what that “something fair and liberal” should be.
He now gave his attention to urging on old Maje’s paces, fearing to mar a good matter by speaking a word too much. Would not Mrs. Chatford give him a little credit for “gumption” after this? Had he not managed the affair with the sagacity of an accomplished politician? He began to wonder a little at the stupidity he had shown on some previous occasions, a man of his diplomatic ability; thinking particularly of the manner in which he had given Kate’s half-dollar to the jeweller, instead of Jack’s.
“Strange how I could have made such a blunder!” he remarked, inadvertently, to the squire.
“What blunder?” cried the squire, quickly.
Poor Mr. Chatford saw that he was on the point of letting out the very secret he had prided himself on keeping; and he lost faith in his “gumption” on the spot.
“O, I’m such a terrible absent-minded man!” he exclaimed. “I’m forever forgetting something. Remember how I drove over to the Basin that Saturday night, and walked home, never thinking of the horse and buggy, till next morning, when we thought they had been stolen, and had that famous hunt for the thieves? That’s the way Jack came to live with us. Pippy arrested him, and brought him home, and he has been with us ever since,” Mr. Chatford went on, congratulating himself on having steered clear of the dangerous rock. “Get up, Maje! don’t be so blamed lazy! There’s my nephew, Syd Chatford, crossing the road; I’ll ask him if he has seen ’em pass.”
“I heard he had applied for the winter’s school in our deestrict,” said the squire. “I hope you won’t forgit my nephew’s claims. It’ll help clear up all these diffikilties, and make us better neighbors than ever, if you’ll bear in mind that Byron was one of the fust to apply, and give him a trial.”
“I’ll do what I can,” replied the deacon; “for, really, I don’t consider Syd just the man for the place, though he is my nephew.—Here! hello! Syd!” Syd, who had crossed the street, and was walking towards the house, turned back at his uncle’s call, and approached the buggy, in a smart, stiff way.