“He is certainly a VERY fortunate young man,” said the squire, impressed. “What is his name?”
“Rodney Ropes.”
“The name sounds aristocratic. I shall be glad to know him.”
“Rodney,” said Mr. Pettigrew. “I want to introduce you to Squire Sheldon, our richest and most prominent citizen.”
“I am glad to meet you, Squire Sheldon,” said Rodney, offering his hand.
“I quite reciprocate the feeling, Mr. Ropes, but Mr. Pettigrew should not call me a rich man. I am worth something, to be sure.”
“I should say you were, squire,” said Jefferson. “Rodney, he is as rich as you are.”
“Oh no,” returned the squire, modestly, “not as rich as that. Indeed, I hardly know how much I am worth. As Mr. Pettigrew very justly observed it is not easy to gauge a man’s possessions. But there is one difference between us. You, Mr. Ropes, I take it, are not over eighteen.”
“Only sixteen, sir.”
“And yet you are wealthy. I am rising fifty. When you come to my age you will be worth much more.”