At times during the year, Mr. Brackett hired a man by the day, but generally had a quarrel with him when pay day came, being as mean as he was lazy.
Jeremiah Brackett began to ply the saw and ax, knowing that his supper depended upon it, and soon little Tommy was able to carry in an armful to his mother.
He sawed a little more, and then resumed his smoking.
“It’s slave, slave all the time!” he muttered. “The old man might help me a little, now that I’ve lost Peter—but no, he’s too much of a gentleman. He must take his cane and walk off for pleasure. I wish I had nothing else to do but to walk for pleasure.”
It would have occurred to any one else that at the age of seventy-five a man might have been allowed to rest, particularly when his life up to seventy had been spent in active duty; but Mr. Brackett was intensely selfish and grudged his father-in-law his well-earned leisure.
He never seemed to think of the rich and productive farm, worth fully ten thousand dollars, which he had received from Mr. Dodge, and was disposed to think that in giving the old gentleman a room for it in his own house, with fare at a very meager table, he was really making a hard bargain.
“If the old man would only give me two thousand dollars in money,” he reflected, “it would make me easy. Of course, it’s coming to me some time—there isn’t anybody else that has any claim—but it looks as if he meant to live forever.”
Mr. Brackett did not, however, feel quite so sure of the personal property as he wished. He knew that Mr. Dodge had relations in Hamilton, and it was the fear of his life that they would inherit the coveted stocks and bonds.
He was somewhat reassured, however, by the knowledge that his father-in-law never appeared to write or receive a letter.
Of the letter which had been received by Mrs. Gordon, and led to the journey of our young hero, he knew nothing. It would have occasioned him a great amount of uneasiness if he had heard anything of it.