"No, of course not," said Mr. Huxter. "You and your mother are now rich; but I hope you won't look down on your poor uncle and cousins, who have to grub along as well as they can for a living. Things were different once, to be sure. Once my humble home was thrown open to receive you, and I was glad to give you a shelter, though a lowly one, in your hour of need. I shall always be glad to think of that, though my wife and little ones should starve before my face."
Mr. Huxter deliberately drew from his pocket a red cotton handkerchief, and raised it to his eyes, not to wipe away the tears, for there were none, but to increase the pathos of his remarks. But even with this help they failed to produce the desired effect. Mrs. Oakley remained cool and unaffected, and Ben, turning from his uncle to his mother, said:—
"How soon will supper be ready?"
"You may go and ask Hannah to set the table at once," said Mrs. Oakley.
Ben left the room with alacrity, without taking further notice of his uncle.
"The young cub! I'd like to flog him!" thought his uncle; but he did not consider it polite to give utterance to this thought. "What a gentlemanly appearance Ben has!" he said, instead.
"Yes," said Mrs. Oakley, more graciously; for her pride in Ben was her great, and perhaps it might be said, her only weakness, cool and calculating woman as she was. "I think he will do me credit, brother Ephraim."
"Indeed he will. I am quite proud of him," said Mr. Huxter, who thought he saw the best way to ingratiate himself with his sister. "I can hardly believe he's the same little Ben that used to run round the farm barefooted. He don't like to think of those old times, ha, ha!"
"No," said Mrs. Oakley; "he has a proud spirit, Benjamin has."