“He was a sturdy rascal, to be sure,” replied the old merchant. “But take ten years off my age and I’d ask no odds of him.” He looked at George for a moment, and his big red face wrinkled with smiles. “That was a rare drubbing you gave him,” chuckled he. “But come,” after a moment. “I have yet to hear your name.”
“George Prentiss,” replied the young man. “I am from Boston.”
“Prentiss—Boston!” The merchant looked at him with fresh interest. “Can it be possible that you are kin to Seth Prentiss of that city?”
“I am his grandson,” answered George.
“Grandson!” The old man grasped his hand firmly and his broad face beamed with good will. “His grandson, do you say! Well, well, here’s a circumstance, indeed! Why, then, you are own cousin to my niece Peggy and my nephew Herbert. Their mother was your mother’s younger sister. Surely you’ve heard her mention us.”
“Frequently, sir.”
“And still you never made yourself known,” inquiringly.
“There were reasons, sir. You see, in times like these——”
The old gentleman did not allow him to proceed further.
“I understand,” said he. “Nothing can be done straightforwardly these days, with safety. Perhaps, when all is said, you have acted well. But,” in another tone, “how is your grandfather?”