"Then, Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine, I have already wasted as much time as I choose to do on you, and must close the conversation."
"All right, sir. You'd better shut up Frank in a glass case, if you don't want him to associate with any improper persons."
But Colonel Sharpley had turned on his heel and moved away.
"I can't have that fellow following us everywhere," he said to himself. "The task I have before me is one which demands secrecy, in order to avert all suspicion in case anything happens. This inquisitive, prying Yankee may spoil all. He won't take a hint, and I suspect it would be dangerous to try a kick. The trouble with these Yankees is that they are afraid of nothing, and are bent on carrying out their own purposes, however disagreeable to others. I must ask Frank about this fellow and his plans."
"Frank," he commenced, when they were alone, "I must congratulate you on this Yankee friend of yours. He has fastened on us like a leech."
"He is a good-natured fellow," said Frank.
"He is an impudent scoundrel!" said Sharpley, impatiently.
"Not so bad as that. He is not used to the ways of the world, and he seems to have taken a fancy to me."
"He ought to see that his company's not wanted."
"He is not disagreeable to me. I am rather amused by his odd ways and talk."