"He's so like you, the dear boy!" murmured Mrs. Fogson.
This might be a compliment, but as Percy stood low in his studies and frequently quarreled with his school companions, Squire Dixon hardly knew whether to feel flattered.
Percy looked rather disgusted to be called a "dear boy" by a woman whom he regarded as so much his social inferior as Mrs. Fogson, but it was difficult to resent so complimentary a speech, and he remained silent. He looked scornfully about the plainly-furnished room, and reflected that it would be pleasanter out of doors.
"I guess I'll go out in the yard," he said abruptly.
"Would you be kind enough in that case, Master Percy, to tell the boy Jed to go and call my husband from the three-acre lot? He is at work there."
"Yes, Mrs. Fogson, I'll tell him."
Percy left the room and walked up to where Jed was splitting wood.
"Go and call Mr. Fogson from the three-acre lot!" he said peremptorily.
Jed paused in his work.
"Who says so?" he inquired.