“I don’t think I shall, Deacon Goodwin.”
“It wouldn’t take long to spend it, Joe,” said the deacon. “Do you want me to keep it for you?”
“I don’t know,” said Joe; “I haven’t had time to think. I’ll come round to-night and see you.”
“Very well, Joseph. G’lang, Dobbin!” and the deacon started his old horse, who had completed his quarter century, along the road.
Oscar had listened, not without interest, to the conversation. Though he was the son of a rich man, he had not at command so large a sum as his father’s hired boy had fallen heir to. On the whole, he respected Joe rather more than when he was altogether penniless.
“You’re in luck, Joe,” said he graciously.
“Yes,” said Joe. “It’s very unexpected.”
“You might buy yourself a new suit of clothes.”
“I don’t intend to do that.”
“Why not? You were wishing for one yesterday.”