“I’ll learn you to play tricks on your ma!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Not another mouthful shall you have to eat to-night, you saucy little imp! But what can be expected when your father upholds you in your bad actions?”
“Really, Lucindy,” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, justly astonished, “I don’t understand you!”
Mrs. Brackett volunteered no explanation, but flounced back to her seat, and the remainder of the meal was passed in solemn and dreary silence.
Andy was very much amused at the sudden change in Mrs. Brackett’s sentiments toward her angel boy, but of course said nothing.
Later in the evening he got a chance to speak a few words, unobserved, with the old gentleman.
“You did right, Henry,” said Mr. Dodge—(It was decided from motives of prudence that he had better call our hero by this name)—“in showing that young torment that he couldn’t play tricks on you. He is about the worst behaved boy I know.”
“Does he ever trouble you, sir?”
“ ‘No; not much. His parents think it would not be politic to let him.”
“Mrs. Brackett seems a very agreeable woman,” said Andy, laughing.
“She’s a good deal worse than her husband. She is very bad-tempered, mean and disagreeable. She isn’t lazy, like her husband, but he is better natured than she. How do you think you shall like staying here?”