The two men now looked at the pedlar in surprise. Miller took the watch from his hired man, examined it attentively, compared it with the other, and then demanded its price anew.
"You might haf eider of dem vatches for four dollars," returned my uncle, as I thought, incautiously.
This occasioned a new surprise, though Brigham fortunately referred the difference to a mistake.
"Oh!" he said, "I understood you to say forty dollars. Four dollars is a different matter."
"Josh," interrupted the more observant and cooler-headed Miller, "it is high time, now, you and Peter go and look a'ter them sheep. The conch will soon be blowing for dinner. If you want a trade, you can have one when you get back."
Notwithstanding the plainness of his appearance and language, Tom Miller was captain of his own company. He gave this order quietly, and in his usual familiar way, but it was obviously to be obeyed without a remonstrance. In a minute the two hired men were off in company, leaving no one behind in the barn but Miller, his sons, and us two. I could see there was a motive for all this, but did not understand it.
"Now he's gone," continued Tom quietly, but laying an emphasis that sufficiently explained his meaning, "perhaps you'll let me know the true price of this watch. I've a mind for it, and may be we can agree."
"Four dollars," answered my uncle, distinctly. "I haf said you might haf it for dat money, and vhat I haf said once might always be."
"I will take it, then. I almost wish you had asked eight, though four dollars saved is suthin' for a poor man. It's so plaguy cheap I'm a little afraid on 't; but I'll ventur'. There; there's your money, and in hard cash."
"Dank you, sir. Won't das ladies choose to look at my drinkets?"