“WHAT do you think was the counterfeiter’s excuse for running away?” asked Sam Wardwell of Canning Forbes, on meeting him at the Post-office, to which both boys had been sent by their parents.
“I give it up,” said Canning, who had not the slightest taste for guessing.
“He said he would have come back and given himself up after court had met and adjourned, but he didn’t want to be tried now.”
“He wanted to wait for some new evidence in his defence, perhaps,” suggested Canning.
“New grandfather!” ejaculated Sam, very contemptuously. “He wanted to stay in jail here, doing nothing, for the next six months, rather than go to the Penitentiary and work hard. That’s what my father says.”
“Perhaps your father is right,” said Canning; “but what does he think of Paul?”
“What does he think?” answered Sam; “why, just what everybody else thinks; he thinks Paul is the greatest boy that ever was, and he says he wishes I would be just like him.”
“Well, why don’t you?” asked Canning.
“How can I?” said Sam, in an aggrieved tone. “I can’t do just as I please, as Paul can, and I haven’t got any great mystery to keep me up, as everybody knows Paul has.”
“Didn’t you ever have a great mystery?” asked Canning.