I was tired of being catechized. I had not meant to tell him anything. Now I decided to tell him all. If it angered him, so much the better.
“I sent him word that what I saved wasn't worth the money.”
To my amazement he was not angry. Instead he slapped his knee and laughed aloud.
“Ho! ho!” he shouted. “Humph! Well, that was. . . . I'd like to have seen his face when he got that message. No, that young man won't do. He won't do at all.”
It was not for me to dispute this conclusion, even if I had disagreed with him, which I did not. I said nothing. He rubbed his knee for a moment and then changed the subject.
“How did you happen to be on the Lower Road at that time of the night?” he asked. “I'm mighty glad you were there, of course, but where did you come from?”
“I left the festival rather late and—”
“Festival? Oh, that thing up at the church. I didn't see you there.”
I had taken pains that he should not see me.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he continued, “that you enjoy a thing like that? What in blazes made Mabel want to go I don't see! She and Carver were set on going; and it would be the treat of a lifetime, or words to that effect. I can't see it myself. Of all the wooden headed jays I ever laid eyes on this town holds the finest collection. Narrow and stubborn and blind to their own interests!”