Andy was puzzled.
“Did he say anything about a quarrel between his son Herbert and myself?” he inquired.
“Not a word. I didn’t know there had been one.”
Thereupon Andy told the story with which we are already familiar.
“I thought he had come about that,” he said.
“I wish he had. It wouldn’t give us as much trouble as this note. He says we will have to pay it if we can’t find the receipt.”
“I wish old Starr was choked with one of his own turnips,” said Andy, indignantly.
“Don’t speak so, Andy!”
“I mean it, mother. Why, the old swindler knows that the note has been paid, but he means to get a second payment because we can’t prove that it has been paid once.”
“It is very dishonorable, Andy, I admit.”