“He observed that Frank Fowler said he wouldn’t go to the poorhouse.”
“Ahem!” coughed the deacon. “The boy will not be consulted.”
“That’s what I say, father,” said Tom, who desired to obtain his father’s co-operation. “You’ll make him go to the poorhouse, won’t you?”
“I shall undoubtedly exercise my authority, if it should be necessary, my son.”
“He told Sam Pomeroy that all the Deacon Pinkertons in the world couldn’t make him go to the poorhouse.”
“I will constrain him,” said the deacon.
“I would if I were you, father,” said Tom, elated at the effect of his words. “Just teach him a lesson.”
“Really, deacon, you mustn’t be too hard upon the poor boy,” said his better-hearted wife. “He’s got trouble enough on him.”
“I will only constrain him for his good, Jane. In the poorhouse he will be well provided for.”
Meanwhile another conversation respecting our hero and his fortunes was held at Sam Pomeroy’s home. It was not as handsome as the deacon’s, for Mr. Pomeroy was a poor man, but it was a happy one, nevertheless, and Mr. Pomeroy, limited as were his means, was far more liberal than the deacon.