“Yes, sir.”
“Was he angry?”
“No, he spoke very reasonably. I have no fault to find with what he said.”
“He isn’t quite such a fool as his wife, nor is he as ill-tempered. If I had given the Bracketts all my property, reserving none to myself, I should be in a bad position. Fortunately I was saved from such folly.”
“It strikes me,” reflected Mrs. Brackett, looking out of the kitchen window, “that father’s pretty thick with that boy of ours. If I had my way, I’d send him packing. He’s a low, artful boy, and if I were Mr. Brackett, I would send him off, if I had to do his work myself.”
Jeremiah Brackett, however, was by no means of his wife’s opinion. He appreciated the fact that Henry Miller—to use the name by which he knew him—was more faithful and a more steady worker than any of his predecessors, and he did not mean to part with him for any light cause, his wife’s prejudices to the contrary, notwithstanding.
Half an hour later, Andy was destined to a considerable surprise.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP.
“Boy, does Mr. Brackett live here?”