“You may state your business,” said the squire.
“I beg your pardon,” said Harry, looking towards James, “but my business is private.”
“Perhaps he wants to complain of me,” thought James, “about the eggs. If he does he won’t make much.”
“I am not aware of any business between us,” said the squire, with dignity, “which is of too private a nature to discuss before my son. I will, however, stretch a point, to oblige you, and request him to leave the room.”
“It isn’t on my account, but on yours,” said our hero, bluntly, “that I wish to speak privately.”
Squire Turner looked at Harry in cold displeasure not unmingled with surprise, at what he felt to be a liberty.
“That’s a strange remark,” he said. “However, James, you may leave the room. Here is the money.”
“You have offered a reward, Squire Turner, for information about the fire the other evening,” said Harry, when they were alone, thinking it best to plunge into the subject at once.