Rufe got home some time before his brothers, who seemed to linger at the spring.
"There they are!" said Lill; "Link with the fork on his shoulder, and Wad bringing the pail."
Rufe was sitting on the grindstone frame, as they came into the yard.
"Did you hear me blackguard the Peakslow boys? They think Jack—Hullo!" Rufe suddenly exclaimed. "I thought you was Wad!"
"I am, for the present," said Jack, laughing under Wad's hat. "Do you think Peakslow will know me ten rods off?"
"Not in that hat and coat! Lill and I both took you for Wad."
"I am all right, then! Where's your father? I wonder if he wouldn't like to try my gun."
Lord Betterson now came out of the house, fresh from his after-dinner nap, and looked a good deal of polite surprise at seeing Jack in Wad's hat and coat.
"Mr. Betterson," said Jack, "Peakslow thinks I have gone home, and he has turned Snowfoot out to grass. Now, if I should wish to throw down a corner of the fence between his pasture and your buckwheat, have you any objection?"
"None whatever," replied my lord, with a flourish, as if giving Jack the freedom of his acres.