“Can you leave me the paper, Jonathan?”
“Yes, I reckon so. I know where I can get another.”
“Let me pay you for it, and come in and eat a piece of mince pie. I’ve got one fresh-baked. You were kind to bring me round the paper.”
“You see Ben always treated me well. Some of the boys plague me, but he never did.”
About an hour later Mr. Winter came into the house. He was rather cross, for he had been doing some chores which would have fallen to Ben had he been home.
“I wish I had Ben here,” he said in a grumbling tone. “Like as not, he’s sufferin’ for his foolishness. I shouldn’t wonder if he was hungry and wished himself home. What can a boy like that do in Boston?”
“He seems to have done himself credit there, Mr. Winter.”
“What?” demanded Jacob. “You hain’t heard from him, have you?”
“Only through the paper.”
“What do you mean by that, Mrs. W.? Is there anything about Ben in the paper?”