“I don’t think I could have concealed my success.”
“It may seem strange, but I’ll explain—I want to learn who are my friends and who are not. I am afraid I wasn’t very highly thought of when I left Burton. I was considered rather shiftless.
“I was always in for a good time, and never saved a cent. Everybody predicted that I would fail, and I expect most wanted me to fail. There were two or three, including my uncle, aunt and the friend who lent me money, who wished me well.
“I mustn’t forget to mention the old minister who baptized me when I was an infant. The good old man has been preaching thirty or forty years on a salary of four hundred dollars, and has had to run a small farm to make both ends meet. He believed in me and gave me good advice. Outside of these I don’t remember any one who felt an interest in Jefferson Pettigrew.”
“You will have the satisfaction of letting them see that they did not do you justice.”
“Yes, but I may not tell them—that is none except my true friends. If I did, they would hover round me and want to borrow money, or get me to take them out West with me. So I have hit upon a plan. I shall want to use money, but I will pretend it is yours.”
Rodney opened his eyes in surprise.
“I will pass you off as a rich friend from New York, who feels an interest in me and is willing to help me.”
Rodney smiled.
“I don’t know if I can look the character,” he said.