“Yes, yes! that misunderstanding between you and Phineas. O, never mind about that!”
“I must!” said Jack. “He is your son, and of course you don’t want—”
“I want what’s right, son or no son. Come along!” And the good deacon half lifted Jack into the buggy. “There’s Peternot now!”
It was Peternot, indeed, rushing out of the jeweller’s shop with wrath in his countenance and several spurious half-dollars in his hand.
“Wait! wait!” he shouted, advancing towards the buggy as fast as his limp would allow. “Deacon! how’s this? You’ve desaived, you’ve ruined me!”
“Deceived! ruined you! how so?” asked the deacon, calmly.
“He says you brought him a half-dollar to test, but not one of these!” cried the excited squire.
“Yes, yes; a blunder of mine; I was telling you how dreadful absent-minded I am, you remember.”
“These are counterfeit!”
“Are they, indeed? Well, I’m not surprised.”