“Yes, I hear,” answered the boy coolly.
He rose from his chair and entered the house.
“Aunt Jane,” he said, “here is Mr. Jones come to see you.”
“What? The tavern keeper?” asked his aunt in great surprise.
“Yes, aunt.”
“What can that man want of me?”
The question was answered, not by Robert but by Nahum Jones himself.
“I want to have a little talk with you, ma’am,” said the burly landlord, entering without an invitation and seating himself unceremoniously.
“I will listen to what you have to say, Mr. Jones,” said the widow, “but I will not pretend that I am glad to see you. You were an enemy to my poor husband.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Trafton. Did he ever tell you that I was his enemy?”