“But you mustn’t give me so much. I am sure you are too generous for your own interest. Why, it’s munificent, princely.”
“Don’t be troubled about me. I can spare it. Send your boy to college, and next year I will send you another sum equally large.”
“How can I thank you, Jefferson?” said Mr. Canfield, the tears coming into his eyes. “Never in forty years have I had such a gift.”
“Not even from Squire Sheldon?”
“The squire is not in the habit of bestowing gifts, but he pays a large parish tax. May I—am I at liberty to say from whom I received this liberal donation?”
“Please don’t! You can say that you have had a gift from a friend.”
“You have made me very happy, Jefferson. Your own conscience will reward you.”
Jefferson Pettigrew changed the subject, for it embarrassed him to be thanked.
“That pays me for hard work and privation,” he said to Rodney as they walked back to the tavern. “After all there is a great pleasure in making others happy.”
“Squire Sheldon hadn’t found that out.”